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THE    ANCIENT    WORLD    AND 
CHRISTIANITY. 


THE    ANCIENT    WORLD 


CHRISTIANITY. 


E.    De    PRESSENSE,    D.D., 

AUTHOR    OF 

'the  early  years  of  ciiRisTiANiry,"  "a  study  of  origins,"  etc. 


TRANSLATED   BY 

ANNIE   HARWOOD   HOLMDEN. 


A.   C.   ARMSTRONG   &   SON, 
714.  BROADWAY. 


PREFACE. 


THE  conflict  between  science  and  Christianity  has 
been  of  late  years  waxing  closer  and  hotter.  The 
natural  sciences,  elated  by  their  magnificent  triumphs, 
have  claimed  as  their  own  the  whole  domain  of  know- 
ledge, ignoring  altogether  the  higher  life  and  the  God 
from  whom  it  springs,  and  attributing  all  effects  to  tlie 
action  of  mechanical  causes.  The  advance  of  materialism 
has  not,  however,  gone  on  unchecked.  We  have  seen  of 
late  some  of  the  most  eminent  representatives  of  natural 
science,  men  who  could  not  be  suspected  of  any  undue 
religious  bias,  limiting  its  sphere  to  the  observation  of 
the  phenomena  which  come  within  the  range  of  the  senses, 
and  affirming  its  incompetence  to  enter  the  higher  region 
of  first  causes.  This  was  notably  the  attitude  taken  by 
Professor  Virchow  at  the  Jubilee  of  the  University  of  Edin- 
burgh. Without  pronouncing  any  opinion  on  the  origin  of 
things,  he  refused  to  relegate  it  to  the  domain  of  the 
unknowable,  and  distinctly  defined  the  limits  beyond 
which  natural  science  cannot  legitimately  press  its  methods 
of  observation.  The  blatant  atheism  of  our  streets  and 
stump  orators  knows  nothing  of  these  limitations  of 
true  science,  and  imagines  that  the  evolutions  of  matter 


viii  PREFA  CE. 

explain,  not  only  all  natural,  but  all  spiritual  phenomena. 
The  same  ignorance  is  manifested  even  by  grave  critics, 
who  affirm  that  the  progress  of  science  is  incompatible 
with  theism,  and  thus  efface  the  whole  moral  history 
of  man.  But  wherever  the  just  limitation  of  positive 
science  by  itself  is  admitted,  there  is  the  implied  recog- 
nition of  a  higher  sphere  to  be  explored  by  methods 
appropriate  to  it.  The  great  organ  of  knowledge  in  the 
moral  world  is  conscience,  of  which  the  law  of  duty, 
inseparable  from  free-will,  is  the  fundamental  axiom. 

In  preparing  the  present  work,  we  have  traced  with 
profound  satisfaction,  the  indications  of  this  Divine  law 
through  all  the  religions  of  antiquity  as  these  have  come 
down  to  us  in  their  sacred  books.  Everywhere  and 
always  we  have  found  the  voice  of  conscience  uplifted  in 
support  of  the  law  of  right,  even  when  this  had  become 
gravely  obscured  in  the  national  worship.  Everywhere 
we  have  found  the  soul  of  man  soaring  above  the  earth 
and  aspiring  after  immortal  life,  crying  out  for  a  God 
greater  than  any  local  and  national  divinities,  and  uttering 
bitter  lamentations  because  it  failed  to  find  that  which  it 
sought,  and,  while  it  perceived  the  good,  was  powerless 
to  achieve  it.  And  shall  we  be  told  that  a  soul,  thus 
exercised  with  strong  and  holy  desires,  is  nothing  more 
than  an  aggregate  of  atoms,  held  together  by  material 
laws  ?  Our  belief  in  the  spiritual  nature  of  man  is  not  a 
blind  and  bigoted  adherence  to  a  creed  ;  it  is  a  deliberate 
conviction  only  confirmed  by  the  results  of  free  inquiry. 

Again,  when  we  find  that  eighteen  centuries  ago,  in 
the  decadence  of  a  world  ready  to  perish,  the  unutterable 
groaning  of  creation  was  answered  by  a  sovereign  mani- 


PRE  FA  CE.  ix 

festation  of  holiness  and  love,  which  caused  a  new  river 
of  life  to  flow  through  the  thiisty  land,  this  great  fact, 
attested  by  unquestionable  documents,  gives  confirmation 
to  our  faith  in  Christ.  And  in  this  troubled  evening  of 
the  nineteenth  century,  when  it  is  easy  to  forecast  the 
gloomy  future  of  a  democracy  without  God,  and  conse- 
quently without  any  adequate  m.oral  sanctions,  our  only 
hope  of  an  effective  salvation  for  society  lies  in  that 
great  spiritual  force,  which  eighteen  centuries  ago  put 
new  life  and  vigour  into  a  state  of  society  as  effete  and 
troubled  as  that  of  to-day. 

There  seems  to  us  a  peculiar  interest  at  the  present 
time  in  tracing  by  the  light  of  history,  the  manifestations 
and  victorious  efforts  of  this  great  moral  force.  We 
recognise  fully  that  in  such  an  investigation,  facts  must 
not  be  wrested  to  support  theories,  and  that  impartiality 
is  a  sacred  duty.  It  has  been  our  earnest  endeavour  to 
conform  to  this  canon  of  all  true  criticism. 

E.  DE  Pressens6, 


CONTENTS. 


PREFACE 
INTRODUCTION 


Vll — IX 

.  xix — xxxi 


BOOK   I. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    STARTING-POINT    OF   THE    RELIGIOUS    EVOLUTION  3— 

Prehistoric   Man — Religion   of    Savage   Peoples  — Religion   of 
Mexico  and  Peru — Conditions  of  the  Religious  Evolution, 


PAGB 

-23 


CHAPTER  n. 


CHALDEO-ASSYRIAN    RELIGION 


24—51 


§  I.  Its  Sources.  Soil— Climate — The  Accadians  and  Sumirs 
— The  Cushites — The  Three  Periods— Chaldean  Account  of  the 
Creation— Story  of  the  Deluge. 

§  n.  T/ie  Phases  of  the  Religions  Evolution.  First  Period — 
Chaldeo-Babylonian  Period. 

§  in.  The  Assyrian  Period.  Confession  of  Sin  — Idealisa- 
tion of  the  Gods — Prayer — The  Psalm  of  Penitence — Retribution 
in  a  Future  Life — Art — Paradoxes  of  this  Religion. 


xii  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  III. 

PAGE 

THE   RELIGION    OF    EGYPT  .....        52 — 93 

The  Land  of  the  Nile — The  Character  of  the  People — Their 
History — Social  Constitution. 

§  I.  first  Fhase  of  the  Religions  Development  of  Egypt.  Early 
Religious  Conceptions. 

§  II.  The  Root  Ideas  of  the  Reh\^ion  of  Egypt  after  Prehistoric 
limes.  Militant  Character  of  the  Gods  —  The  Great  Divine 
Triad — The  Only  (9«^— The  Evil  Element  present  in  him — 
Conflict  between  the  Gocd  and  Evil  Element — Glorification  of 
the  Greater  Gods — The  Lesser  Gods— I^gyptian  Anthropology — 
The  Victory  of  Osiris  — The  Earthly  Life  a  Preparation  for  the 
Heavenly — The  Egyptian  Priesthood — The  Sacred  Animals — 
Worship- — Sepulture — I'eath  not  Destruction — The  Great  Journey 
heyond  the  Tomb — Judgment — Victory — Funeral  Obsequies — 
The  Judgment— The  Deceased  identified  with  his  God — The 
Moral  Idea  in  the  Religion  of  Egypt — The  Pleading  of  the 
Deceased — Self-satisfaction — The  Grandeur  of  Egypt — Sublime 
Intuitions — The  Consciousness  of  Evil — Decline  of  the  Egyptian 
Religion — Egyptian  Art. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   RELIGION    OF   PHCENICIA 94 — IIO 

Place  of  Phoenicia  in  History — The  Race — History — Country 
■ — Primitive  Fetishism — The  Phoenician  Gods — The  Imitation  of 
the  Gods — Imitation  of  their  Cruelty — Sacred  Prostitutions — 
The  Phoenician  Tomb — The  Myth  of  Adonis — Phoenician  Art- 
Mission  of  Phoenicia. 


BOOK  II. 

CHAPTER  L 

THE    PRIMITIVE    ARYANS.  .....  II3 120 

The  Cradle  of  the  Aryans — Constitution  of  the  Family — Civi- 
lisation of  the  Early  Aryans — Moral  and  Religious  Ideas. 


C0NTEN2S. 


CHAPTER  II. 

PAGE 

THE    RELIGION    OF    ZOROASTER.  .  .  ,  121  — 140 

§  I.  Historical  Swvey.  Nature  of  the  Country — Historical 
Development — Formation  of  the  Sacred  Books. 

§  II.  Basis  of  the  Religion  of  Iran— Common  Origin  luith  the 
Vedas. 

§  III.  The  Religion  of  Zoroaster.  The  Sacred  Books — The 
Good  God — The  Evil  Principle — Struggle  of  Life  against  Death 
— Worship — Importance  of  Sacred  Words — Absence  of  Sacer- 
dotalism and  Asceticism — Fall  of  the  First  Man — Zoroaster  the 
First  Messiah  of  Iran — The  Judgment  of  Souls — Soshyos  the 
Mess'ah  of  the  Future— First  Triumph  of  the  Good  God—  Grand 
Moral  Intuitions — Exaltation  c?  the  Monarchy — Sense  of  Sin — 
Aspirations  after  the  Future. 


BOOK  III. 

CHAPTER  I. 

THE    RELIGION    OF   THE    VEDAS  .  .  .  143  — 187 

§  I.    Gejieral  Characteristics. 

§  II.   The  Three  Phases  of  the  Religion  of  the  Vedas. 

§  III.  The  Solar  Gods.  Keen  Sense  of  Natural  Beauty — The 
Dawn — The  Asvins -Tlie  Sun — Spiritualisation  of  Natural  Phe- 
nomena. 

§  IV.  The  Gods  of  the  Sacrifices.  Agni  and  Soma  confounded 
with  the  Great  Gods — Both  Agni  and  Soma  deified — Identifica- 
tion of  the  Offering  with  the  God — Man  the  Son  of  Agni — 
Worship  of  Agni  and  Soma — Deification  of  Prayer^ Various  Acts 
of  Worship— Immortalijy  of  Man — The  Soul  an  Emanation  from 
the  Celestial  Fire— Deification  of  Ancestors  (Pitris) — Absorption 
of  the  Soul  in  the  Celestial  Fire — Moral  Intuitions. 

§  V.  Indra.  Indra  the  God  of  the  Battle  of  the  Storm— Indra 
fights   also  upon    Earth — His   Companions,    the   Maruts — Indra 


CONTENTS. 


Worship  offered  to  Indra— Indra  the  Froteclor  of  Man — Pathetic 
Prayers  to  Indra—  Exaltation  of  Indra — The  Pantheistic  Element 
prevails. 

§  VI.  Vanina.  Varuna  becomes  the  God  nf  the  Conscience 
— His  Sovereignty — His  Omniscience — Flis  Holiness — Develop- 
ment of  Conscience — Sense  of  Sin. 

§  VII.  The  Close  of  the  Vedic  Religion.  Confusion  of  all  the 
Gods — Metaphysical  Difficulties — Persistent  Aspirations. 

CHAPTER  11. 

TRANSFORMATION  OF  THE  RELIGION  OF  THE  VEDAS  AFTER 
THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  THE  VEDIC  ARYANS  ON  THE 
BANKS    OF    THE    GANGES     ....  l83 — 221 

§  I.  Growth  of  Brahnianism.  The  Aryans  en  the  Banks  of  the 
Ganges — Distinction  of  Castes — Brahma  becomes  the  Supreme 
God — Gradual  Growth  of  Brahmanism — Reform  of  Worship. 

§  II.    The  Speculative  Evolution  of  Brahmanism. 

§  III.  The  Rdigijus  Life  during  the  Brahman ical  Period. 
The  Laws  of  Manu — Their  Theoretical  Teaching — Exaltation  of 
Brahmanism — Preparation  of  the  Brahman — Sacred  Studies — 
Purifying  Sacrifices — Importance  of  Sacred  Formularies — The 
Brahman  to  be  a  Father — Laws  for  Family  Life — Purity  of 
Domestic  Morals — Duties  of  the  King— Social  Justice — Witness 
of  Conscience — Tendency  to  Asceticism. 

§  IV.  The  Messiah  of  the  Brahmans  in  the  Indian  Epics. 
Aspirations  after  a  Human  God — The  Incarnations  of  the  Great 
Poems — The  Gods  of  the  Incarnations — Brahma  in  the  Human 
Gods — Design  of  the  Incarnations — The  God  Incarnate  is  the 
Great  Conqueror — The  Supreme  God  in  the  Warrior — Pantheistic 
Basis  of  the  Great  Poems. 

CHAPTER  IIL 
BUDDHA.  • •  222 — 259 

Tendency  of  all  the  Religions  of  India  to  Buddhism — Buddha 
the  Incarnation  of  his  own  Doctrine — Personal  Influence  of 
Buddha — His  Great  Characteristic  is  Pity — Buddhism  more  than 
a  Solar  Myth. 

§  I.  Primitive  Buddhism.  Brilliant  Youth  of  Buddha — The 
Four  Meetings — Buddha  leaves  his  Palace — His  Asceticism  sur- 


CONTENTS. 


PAGO 

passes  that  of  the  Brahmans— The  Temptation  under  the  Bo- 
tree — He  inaugurates  his  Misi-ion — Charm  of  Buddhi's  Teaching 
— The  "Four  Noble  Truths" — The  "Eight  Steps" — The  Four 
QuaUties  of  Man — Nirvana,  its  Metaphysical  I'asis— Share  As- 
S'gned  to  Liberty  in  the  Doctrine  ol  Karnui — Moral  Teacliing  of 
Buddha  —  The  Buddhist  Order  of  Mendicants  —  Parables  of 
Buddha — Closing  Period  of  his  Life — A'ovissiina  verba. 

§  IL  Development  and  TransfoDnation  of  rriniilive  Buddhism. 
Me'aiihysical  Buddhism — Mytliological  Development — Buddhist 
Monasteries  —  A9oka,  the  Buddhist  Constantine  —  Edicts  of 
A9oka— Later  History  of  Buddhism  — Buddha  a  Real  Ptrson — 
Buddhism  the  Final  Utterance  of  Naturisni  in  India. 


BOOK  IV. 


iflUnir   Ipapnisn. 


CHAPTER  L 
ITS    FIRST    PERIOD 263  —  295 

General  Characteristics. 

§  I.  Conditions  Favourable  to  Development  of  Humanism  in 
Greece,  Formation  of  the  Greek  Nationality — Successive  Coloni- 
sations—Greek Humanism — .^isthetic  Sense — Delight  in  the 
Plastic  Arts — Development  of  the  Intellectual  Faculties — The 
Language  of  Greece- — Nature  of  the  Country — Its  Beauty — De- 
mocratic Constitution — National  Unity — Delphi  the  Centre  of 
Greece — Heroic  National  Life. 

§  II.  First  Development  of  the  Greek  Conscience  in  the  Direction  of 
Humanity.  Important  Influence  of  Art — Danger  of  the  Human- 
istic Tendency — The  Greek  Myth — Paradoxes  of  Early  Myths — 
Lay  Character  of  the  Priesthood — Naturalistic  Origin  of  the  Gods 
of  Greece — The  Humanism  of  Homer — The  Humanism  of  the 
Homeric  Epos — Nature  the  Mirror  of  Man — A  More  Elevated 
Conception  of  Deity — Contradictions  in  the  Homeric  Theodicy — 
The  Theogony  of  Hesiod — Its  Invincible  Dualism — Moral  Solu- 
tion anticipated — Dualism  its  Final  Utterance. 

§  III.  The  Greek  Cultus.  Priesthood  not  an  Exclusive  Caste 
— Saciii^ce 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  II. 
THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE  IN  ITS  FULL  DEVELOPMENT    296 — 346 

§  I.  The  Worship  of  Apollo.  The  Delphic  Oracle— Apollo 
the  Saviour-God. 

§  II.  The  Worship  of  Minerva  —  Development  of  Hellcnisiit 
tinder  Fericlcs.  Influence  of  Pericles — Athenian  Civilisation — 
Ncble  Poetry — Artistic  Development — Development  of  Greek 
Art — Phidias — Polygnotus — Praxiteles. 

§  III.  Development  of  the  Conscience  of  Gretce  on  the  Human 
Side — The  Great  Mysteries  —  The  Ttagedies.  Theognis — Pindar  — 
The  Mysteries  of  Eleusis — Orphism — The  Dionysus  of  the  Mys- 
teries— His  i'urifying  Passion. 

§  IV.  Development  of  the  Greek  Conscience  in  the  Great  Tra- 
gedies— The  Greek  Tragedies — The  Myth  of  Hercules — Summary 
of  the  Religious  Evolution  of  Greece. 

CHAPTER  III. 
GREEK    PHILOSOPHY 347 — 39O 

§  T.  First  Feriod  of  Greek  Philosophy.  Philosophical  Genius 
of  Greece — Great  Mi^-sion  of  Greek  Philosophy — Sequence  in  its 
Philosophical  Sysiem — Same  Evolution  in  Philosophy  as  in  Reli- 
gion— The  Various  Schools  of  Pliilosophy — The  Ionian  School — 
The  P)  thtgorean — The  Elean — Parmenides — The  Aiomist  School 
— Heracleitus — Scepticism  of  the  Sophists. 

§  II.  Seco)id  Feriod  of  Lreek  Philosophy. 

§  III.   Socrates. 


§  IV.   Plato. 
§  V.  Aristotle. 


BOOK  V. 

6itto-g0mait  f  agatiism  antr  its  Srrlim. 

CHAPTER  I. 

CHANGE    THAT    PASSED    OVER    ANCIENT    PAGANISM,    FROM 
THE       TIME       OF       ALEXANDER       AND       UNDER      THE 
ROMANS  ........  393 — 41I 

§  I.  Greece  tinder  Alexander  and  his  Successors.     Greece  after 
Alexander — Alexandria  supplants  Athens — Suppression  of  Politi- 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

cal    Liberty — Religious     Scepticism — Epicureanism— Stoicism — 
Decline  of  Literature— Decline  of  Art. 

§  II.  Home  before  and  after  (he  Conquest  of  Greece — The  Reli- 
gion of  Rome  to  the  Time  of  Augustus.  National  Spirit  of  Rome — 
Character  of  its  Religion— Naturalistic  Basis— Abstract  Character 
of  the  Religion — The  Celestial  Gods— The  Terrestrial  Gods— The 
Gods  of  the  Under  World— The  Penates— Genii— Important  Part 
assigned  to  Divination — Formalism  of  Roman  Piety — Worship  of 
the  State— Deification  of  the  Fatherland— Rapid  Religious  Deca- 
dence— Corrupting  Influenct  of  Greece, 


CHAPTER  IL 
THE    PAGAN    WORLD    AT    THE    COMING    OF    CHRIST        .    419— 461 

§  I.  Religion  under  Augustus.  Strong  Contrast  in  the  Roman 
Empire — Rapid  Decomposition — Religion  an  Institution  of  State 
Convenience^Augustus  restores  the  Altars — Augustus  prepares 
his  own  Apotheosis — Political  Character  of  these  Reforms. 

§  11.  Social  and  Moral  Condition  of  the  Greco- Roman  World 
at  this  Period.  Excessive  Luxury  — Real  Impoverishment — Uni- 
versal Slavery — Growing  Immorality — Satiety — Disgust  of  Life 
— Decadence  of  Letters — Servility  of  Art. 

§  III.  Reiii^ion  and  Philosophy  after  the  Augustan  Age.  Incre- 
dulity and  Superstiiion — Apotheosis  of  the  Caesars — Corruption  of 
Religion— Spread  of  Impiety  and  Superstition — Inclination  to 
Alien  Religions — Apollonius  of  Tyana — Roman  Philosophy — 
The  New  Academy — Cicero — Roman  Epicureanism — Roman 
Stoicism  — Seneca — Epictetus — Plutarch — Failure  of  Philosophers 
to  satisfy  Aspirations — Virgil — The  Sighing  of  Humanity — The 
Fulness  of  the  Time. 

CONCLUSION     ....,.).  462 — 470 
INDEX      .  .  .  .  «  »  «  I  •  '47^ 


INTRODUCTION. 


T  is  impossible  to  enter  intelligently  into  the  history  of 
the  rise  and  progress  of  Christianity,  without  taking  at 
least  a  preliminary  glance  at  the  antecedent  moral  history 
of  the  ancient  world.  We  feel  the  more  strongly  the 
necessity  of  this  introductory  study,  because  there  is  a 
school  which  disputes  the  originality  and  distinctive 
character  of  Christianity,  maintaining  that  it  gives  us 
nothing  more  than  a  synthesis  of  pre-existing  elements 
under  the  form  of  a  new  myth.  It  is  the  result,  we  are 
told,  of  the  impact  of  the  Greek  with  the  Jewish  mind  in 
an  age  of  universal  syncretism.  This  thesis,  brilliantly 
reproduced  in  the  learned  work  of  M.  Havet,^  can  only  be 
sustained  or  refuted  by  the  moral  history  of  the  ancient 
world.  We  are  firmly  persuaded  that  if,  instead  of  citing 
as  evidence  isolated  passages  (often  truly  admirable) 
from  certain  Greek  writers,  the  critic  were  to  follow  out 
their  train  of  connection  in  the  various  religious  or  philo- 
sophic systems,  he  would  have  to  confess  that  no  parallel 
can  be  drawn  between  the  Gospel  and  Hellenism.  Helle- 
nism is  essentially  dualistic.  Hence  it  fails,  like  all  the 
religions  of  the  East,  to  account  for  the  existence  of  the 
material  element,  except  by  identif3ang  it  with  the 
principle  of  evil,  which  is  thus  accepted  as  a  part  of  the 
normal  and  necessary  order  of  things. 

'  "Le  Christiar.isme  et  ses  origines"  (Ernest  Havet). 


INTR  OD  UCTION. 


But  the  contrast  between  such  a  religion  and  that  of 
Christ  only  comes  out  fully  if  we  look  at  Christianity  in 
its  pristine  purity,  before  its  stream  had  been  rendered 
turbid  by  the  admixture  of  foreign  elements,  derived 
largely  from  old  world  traditions.  The  representatives  of 
Christianity  have  often  (to  use  the  familiar  figure  of 
Hippolytus)  been  like  those  who  patch  up  old  garments, 
for  they  have  only  put  a  new  face  on  some  of  the  W'Orn- 
out  errors  of  paganism.^  We  shall  only  learn  to  dis- 
tinguish this  hybrid  religion,  known  in  the  Church  as 
heresy,  from  the  pure  Gospel,  by  a  just  appreciation  of 
the  religious  and  philosophical  development  of  the  ancient 
world. 

Let  us  not  be  misunderstood.  While  we  maintain  that 
the  originality  and  superiority  of  the  Christian  doctrine 
is  clearly  established  by  a  careful  examination  of  antece- 
dent religious  systems,  we  do  not  deny  that  it  presents 
many  analogies  and  points  of  contact  with  them.  We 
utterly  repudiate  the  apologetics  which  dismiss  all  the 
virtues  of  paganism  as  splendida  vitia,  and  its  often  sub- 
lime intuitions  of  moral  and  religious  truth  as  the  mirage 
of  the  desert.  We  are  deeply  convinced,  like  the  Alex- 
andrine Fathers,  that  paganism  retained  and  developed 
important  elements  of  truth,  and  we  are  very  far  from 
saying  that  these  can  have  been  only  the  residue  of  an 
inspired  tradition.  The  soul  of  man  can  never  be  re- 
garded as  a  blank  sheet  of  parchment,  passively  receiving 
the  impress  of  a  primeval  revelation.  '  "God  Himself," 
says  Theodoret,  "has  graven  ineffaceable  characters  on 
man's  deepest  nature.""  Or,  as  Clement  of  Alexandria 
says,  "  The  soul  turns  to  the  light,  as  the  plant  to  the 
sun."^     Justin  Martyr  w-as  not  wrong  when  he  said  that 


'   Hippolytus,  ("  Phi'.osophoumena,"  p.  94). 

'''  'let  dtoxa.pa.KTo.  ypa.iJ.ix  wra,   (Theodoret,  p.  4S3). 

'  Clement  cf  Alexairiria. 


IJVTR  on  UCTION. 


there  is  a  seed  of  the  Word  in  the  soul.  We  go  further 
and  say  that  the  pagan  world  was  never  left  to  itself. 
The  natural  revelation  was  quickened  and  made  effectual 
by  the  direct  operation  of  God,  who,  to  use  the  figure  of 
a  Father  of  the  Church,  makes  His  rain  to  fall  upon  the 
desert  as  well  as  on  more  favoured  soil.-^  Thus  pagan 
humanity  had  a  vague  yearning  after  all  that  was  noblest 
ill  Christianity.  May  we  not  say  that  it  stretched  out  its 
hands  towards  it  for  the  satis.act'on  it  failed  to  find  in 
itself?  It  was  no  small  thing  to  have  thus  learned  its 
own  spiritual  ineptitude. 

And  here  comes  out  the  capital  difference  between  the 
religion  of  Christ  and  all  that  went  before  it.  Ciiristi- 
anity  is  not  primarily  teaching  or  doctrine,  though  it 
embraces  this.  It  is  primarily  a  great  fact ;  and  as  M. 
Scherer  has  well  said  in  reference  to  M.  Havet's  work, 
it  claims  to  bring  effectual  help  through  a  Person  who 
stands  alone  in  history. 

Undoubtedly  all  religions  assume  in  some  way  the  task 
of  relieving  and  raising  humanity.  But  if  we  compare 
the  way  in  which  they  have  fulfilled  this  flanction,  with 
that  which  Christianity  has  given  to  the  world,  we  shall 
see  in  all  their  tentative  effjrts  to  save  an  unhappy  race, 
only  another  expression  of  the  human  yearnings  which 
Christ  alone  can  satisfy.  Hence  all  the  analogies  pointed 
out  between  the  Gospel  teaching  and  the  religious  and 
philosophical  conceptions  of  the  ancient  world,  do  not 
detract  at  all  from  its  originality.  However  lofty  the  ideal 
of  the  old  teachers  of  religion,  it  is  still  nothing  more  than 
an  ideal,  and  there  still  remains  the  same  interval  between 
it  and  the  Gospel,  as  between  an  idea  and  its  full  realisa- 
tion. The  deeper  the  yearning  of  the  ancient  world,  the 
greater  the  need  for  the  response  which  Christianity 
alone  can  give.     The  keener  the  hunger,  the  stronger  the 


'  Theodoret,  p.  484. 


IKTR  OD  UCTION. 


cry  for  the  bread,  which  the  famishing  soul  cannot  evolve 
for  itself  out  of  the  void  within.  Speaking  of  the  sorrows 
and  aspirations  of  humanity,  M.  Renan  says,  using  a  bold 
poetic  figure,  that  with  our  tears  we  make  for  ourselves  a 
God.  We  change  one  word  and  say  that  with  our  tears 
we  call  for  a  God,  and  that  these  holy  tears  are  the  very 
anointing  of  the  great  Healer.^ 

Before  entering  on  a  review  of  the  religious  and  philo- 
sophical development  of  the  ancient  world,  we  will  attempt 
to  define  a  little  more  clearly  our  general  idea  of  what  is 
commonly  called  the  great  preparation  for  the  Gospel. 

We  have  said  enough  to  show  in  what  sense  we  use 
the  word  evolution  in  relation  to  history.  Without 
entering  at  all  into  the  scientific  question  of  the  transfor- 
mation of  species,  by  virtue  of  a  power  of  development 
inherent  in  themselves,  we  do  refuse  absolutely  to 
identify  this  internal  principle  (supposing  its  existence 
proved)  with  mere  mechanical  force.  If  it  could  be  thus 
identified,  it  would  follow  that  there  is  no  power  in  the 
world  but  motion,  and  motion  governed  not  by  mind  or 
will  or  moral  force,  but  by  a  blind  mechanical  necessity. 
In  such  a  case  there  could  be  no  history  at  all  in  the  true 
sense.  We  can  never  admit  that  mind  can  be  identified 
with  a  mere  combination  of  atoms.  We  maintain,  with 
Tyndall,  that  between  motion,  which  is  the  play  of  mechani- 
cal forces,  and  the  consciousness  of  motion,  which  is 
thought,  there  is  a  great  gulf.     Reason  would  do  violence 

'  We  apply  the  same  criticism  to  the  learned  work  of  M.  Leblois, 
"  Les  Bibles  et  les  institutions  religieuses  de  Ihumanite,"  vol.  iii.,  as 
to  M.  Havet's  book.  It  is  of  great  value  as  a  collection  of  noble  testi- 
monies from  the  human  conscience  in  the  ancient  world.  But,  on  the 
one  hand,  the  author  neglects  almost  invariably  to  define  the  main 
thought  to  be  illustrated  by  these  admirable  fragments ;  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  he  ignores  the  unique  character  of  Christianity  as  the  religion 
of  fulfilment.  These  "  Bibles  of  hum.anity  "  are  full  of  sublime  aspirations, 
but  they  are  found  wanting,  because  they  cannot  bridge  over  the  gulf 
between  the  ideal  and  the  real. 


nVlR  OD  UCIION. 


to  its  first  law,  if  it  were  to  subordinate  thought,  mind, 
the  moral  life,  to  matter  in  motion. 

If  the  cause  is  greater  than  the  effect,  it  must  at  least 
possess  that  which  the  effect  possesses.  We  are  con- 
vinced, with  Socrates,  Plato,  and  Descartes,  that  the 
cause,  the  principle  which  gave  us  being,  possesses  in  its 
perfection  that  which  is  but  imperfectly  developed  in  our- 
selves, the  creatures  of  yesterday.  Hence  we  attribute  the 
reason  and  thought  which  we  find  in  ourselves,  to  the 
principle  of  all  things,  and  recognise  that  in  Him  they 
must  exist  in  a  state  of  perfection.  It  follows  that  God 
must  be  absolute  thought,  absolute  reason,  which  is  but 
another  way  of  expressing  the  infinite,  of  which  we  have 
an  inward  intuition,  though  our  finite  minds  cannot  fully 
apprehend  it. 

Again,  the  very  marks  of  design  in  creation  would 
suffice  to  set  aside  the  theory  of  merely  mechanical  evolu- 
tion, which  is  repugnant  to  the  most  elementary  psy- 
chology. But  we  observe  in  ourselves  another  element 
beside  thought.  We  find  in  the  depths  of  our  conscience, 
a  law  of  obligation,  associated  with  our  sense  of  personal 
responsibility  -the  sacred,  irrepressible  intuition  of  moral 
good  which  appeals  to  our  will.  This  appeal  would  be 
meaningless  if  we  were  not  free  agents,  for  there  must 
be  first  the  willing  to  do  good.  This  power  to  will  and 
to  do  that  which  is  right,  is  the  fulfilment  of  the  higl;est 
intention  and  possibility  of  our  being — the  ver}^  crown 
of  our  liberty.  Again  tracing  back  the  elTect  to  the 
cause,  and  attributing  to  the  cause  the  perfect  realisation 
of  that  which  we  find  in  the  effect,  we  recognise  in  God 
not  only  absolute  reason,  but  absolute  liberty,  absolute 
good,  in  a  word  the  moral  life  in  fullest  power.  We  have 
thus  liberty  both  in  the  cause  and  the  effect,  in  God  and 
in  man.  Henceforth  we  have  to  watch  the  progress  not 
of  a  fatalistic  evolution,  but  of  history  and  religious 
la;:t^ry. 


INTR  OD  UCTION. 


History,  as  it  appears  to  us,  is  a  perpetual  conflict 
between  two  contrary  principles,  which  we  recognise  under 
the  most  diverse  forms — the  principle  of  the  good  and 
true,   and  the  principle  of  evil. 

This  dualism  of  history  implies  that  humanity  is  not 
now  in  its  normal  condition.  Had  it  remained  in  its 
primeval  state,  history  would  indeed  have  been  nothing 
but  the  record  of  steady,  unimpeded  progress  and  develop- 
ment. If  the  free-will  of  man  had  continued  in  perfect 
harmony  with  that  of  God,  history  would  have  been  one 
prolonged  manifestation  of  this  correspondence  and  of 
its  blessed  results.  Humanity  would  have  developed  like 
a  great  tree  which  grows  erect  towards  heaven. 

But  we  say  that  the  primitive  harmony  between  man 
and  God  has  not  continued.  Evil  has  come  into  the  world, 
evil  which  cannot  be  regarded  as  mere  imperfection, 
arising  out  of  the  necessary  predominance  of  the  physical, 
in  the  early  stages  of  our  existence,  and  sure  to  be  out- 
grown, like  the  garments  of  our  childhood.  Evil  is  in 
our  view  an  abnormal  thing,  which  does  violence  to  order, 
"  heaven's  first  law."  As  we  cannot  deny  its  existence, 
so  neither  can  we  attribute  it  to  God,  for  this  would  imply 
that  God,  He  whom  v.'e  have  called  the  Absolute  Good, 
is  either  weak  or  wicked.  There  remains  no  alterna- 
tive but  to  attribute  evil  to  man.  When,  where,  under 
what  form,  did  the  mysterious  ordeal  of  man's  free-will 
take  place  ?  By  what  fatal  sohdarity  have  the  effects  of 
an  initial  error  come  upon  all  the  race  ?  No  graver 
problem  than  this  can  exercise  the  thought  of  man.  Yet 
it  is  undisputable  that  there  never  has  been  a  religion 
which  has  not  preserved,  under  the  form  of  a  myth,  the 
memory  of  a  distant  past,  in  which  everything  w^as  better 
than  now,  and  which  has  not  groaned  under  the  weary 
heritage  of  sorrow  and  the  curse. 

It  is  obvious  that  if  the  world  were  wholly  given  up  to 
the  power  of  evil,  history  would  be  as  much  a  blank  as  if 


INTR  OD  UCTION. 


good  had  reigned  with  undisputed  sway,  history  being 
understood  to  be  the  record  of  one  long,  unbroken  conflict 
between  the  rival  powers  of  good  and  evil.  How  could 
this  be  waged  if  there  were  not  two  champions  standing 
face  to  face  ?  History — that  is,  conflict  issuing  in  moral 
victory — is  only  possible,  because  man  has  not  been  aban- 
doned by  the  Divine  will  to  the  consequences  of  his 
alienation,  which  would  else  have  led  inm  by  an  inexorable 
fatality,  to  the  hopeless  death  which  awaits  all  life  cut  ofl 
from  its  source.  The  supernatural,  as  we  understand  it, 
proceeds  from  this  act  of  pardon  and  love,  t'e  supreme 
act  of  the  Divine  freedom.  The  chain  of  natural  cause 
and  effect  is  broken  in  the  moral  order  after  the  Fall,  that 
a  new  beginning  may  be  made,  or  rather  that  a  new 
restoring  and  repairing  force  may  be  introduced.  There 
is  nothing  arbitrary  in  this,  nothing  contrary  to  nature 
rightly  understood,  for  the  result  is  to  restore  the  true 
order  of  nature.  The  supernatural  is  miserably  falsified 
and  misconceived  when  it  is  limited  to  isolated  prodigies. 
The  outward  miracle  is  but  the  secondary  thougli  necessary 
manifestation  of  that  free  act  of  love  which  makes  repara- 
tion possible. 

If,  then,  there  is  such  a  thing  as  histor}^  and  religious 
history,  it  is  because  the  Absolute  Good,  who  is  at  once 
supreme  love  and  liberty,  has  so  willed  it.  It  is  because 
He  has  resolved  to  raise  and  to  save  fallen  man.  This 
work  of  reparation  and  salvation  must  be  in  harmony 
with  the  moral  laws,  without  which  liberty  has  no  existence 
either  in  God  or  man.  It  cannot  then  consist  simply  in 
a  decree  of  pardon.  It  demands  reconciliation.  Un- 
doubtedly infinite  love  must  take  the  initiative,  for  the 
fallen  creature  lies  groaning  on  the  earth,  bruised  by  his 
futile  attempt  at  revolt.  He  has,  moreover,  been  overcome 
of  evil,  and  brought  into  bondage  by  it,  and  though  he 
may  often  chafe  at  the  galling  fetters,  he  is  no  less  a  slave. 
His  remorse  cannot  set  him  free.     Man  must  come  back 


INTR  OD  UCTION. 


to  God  with  a  penitent  and  broken  heart,  frankly  accepting 
the  mournful  consequences  of  his  rebellion,  and  making  a 
complete  surrender  to  the  Divine  will.  This  he  cannot  do 
in  his  natural  state.  Hence  it  was  needful  that  the  Son 
of  man,  who  was  to  be  his  representadve  in  the  great 
conflict,  should  come  from  a  higher  sphere  than  this  sin- 
defiled  earth,  though  He  came  to  dwell  as  man  among  men. 
Let  no  one  say  that,  comsing  thus  from  God,  He  could  not 
represent  humanity.  This  would  be  to  ignore  the  dignity 
and  glory  of  m.an's  birth.  He  is  himself  of  Divine  race,  a 
son  of  God,  made  in  His  image.  He  is  never  more  truly 
man  than  when  he  perfectly  reproduces  that  image  ;  the 
Divine  is  the  most  human.  The  higher  life  is  that  light 
of  the  eternal  Word,  which  "  lightens  every  man  as 
he  cometh  into  the  world,"  as  we  read  in  the  most 
profound  of  our  Gospels.  ^  Hence  man  is  only  complete 
in  God.  There  is  his  ideal,  the  full  realisation  of  his 
being.  Therefore  the  Son  of  God  could  perfectly  repre- 
sent humanity,  on  the  one  condition  that  He  became  "in 
all  things  like  unto  His  brethren,"  living  a  truly  human 
life,  fighting  man's  battles,  weeping  his  tears,  treading 
with  wayworn  feet  over  the  ruts  and  rough  stones  that  lie 
along  life's  common  pathway,  and  at  length  watering  it 
with  His  atoning  blood.  Nor  is  this  all.  There  must 
also  be  in  Him,  as  man's  true  representative,  a  response 
to  his  deepest  spiritual  longings  and  needs. 

All  history  before  the  coming  of  Christ  has  but  this  one 
end  in  view:  to  prepare  the  way  before  Him  by  a  series 
of  dispensations,  all  designed  to  overcome  the  opposition 
of  humanity.  Only  this  preparative  work  is  constantly 
hindered  and  even  partially  frustrated  by  the  ever-power- 
ful agency  of  the  principle  of  evil.  There  is  no  arbitrary 
interference  with  man's  free-will,  even  when  it  impels  him 
to  his  ruin.     God  permits  the  ravages  of  evil,  with  all  its 


'  John  i.  9, 


INTRODUCTION.  xxvii 


awful  consequences.  This  is  a  great  mystery,  but  it  is 
the  necessary  correlative  of  free-will  in  God  and  man. 
If  man  were  under  a  f':ital  necessity  to  choose  the  right, 
evils  involving  whole  generations  might  be  averted,  but 
the  moral  world  would  have  lost  its  axis.  Nor  must  we 
forget  that  the  most  terrible  consequences  of  evil  recoil 
upon  itself,  so  that  it  becomes  its  own  chastisement. 
Again,  sorrow  itself  is  fruitful  of  good,  for  it  deepens  in 
the  heart  the  void  which  God  alone  can  fill.  Nor  do  we 
find  anywhere  in  history  a  page  of  unrelieved  suffering. 
It  is  lighted  up  by  pure  and  tender  joys,  the  smiles  of 
a  Father,  v/hich  save  the  sufferer  from  despair. 

Yet,  unless  we  abandon  ourselves  to  a  frivolous 
optimism,  we  can  but  shudder  at  the  tragedies  of  history. 
Heart  and  mind  would  reel  in  the  contemplation  of  them, 
but  for  the  thought  that  the  present  life  is  but  as  a 
lightning  flash  in  the  eyes  of  infinite  love,  which  has  eternal 
ages  before  it  for  the  fulfilment  of  its  work.  Such  love 
does  not  fail,  is  not  discouraged ;  and  as  it  is  also  absolute 
justice,  it  will  in  the  end  equalise  the  conditions  of  the 
moral  conflict  for  all  the  combatants,  and  adjust  the 
inequities  of  the  present  sphere.  But  even  this  consola- 
tion will  not  suffice,  unless,  through  all  the  dark  clouds  of 
history,  we  discern  the  invisible  Champion  who  is  truly 
fighting  for  us  even  when  He  seems  to  be  against  us,  like 
the  Divine  Unknown,  who  is  set  forth  in  a  sublime  symbol, 
wrestling  all  night  with  one  feeble  mortal.  By  the  first 
morning  ray  which  dispelled  the  darkness  of  the  night, 
the  patriarch  recognised  his  God.  From  the  deep  wounds 
received  from  His  hand,  streams  of  immortal  life  were  to 
flow  forth. 

Read  beneath  this  light  from  heaven,  the  motto  of 
history  is  not  chance  or  fatality,  but  redemption.  Every 
other  solution  of  the  enigma  of  our  destinies,  leads  to  the 
blank  pessimism  which  identifies  both  man  and  his  Maker 
with  the   principle   of  evil.     After  such   a  conclusion,  it 


INTR  on  UCTION. 


only  remains  to  curse  God  and  die;  or,  more  bitter  still, 
to  accept  life  as  a  cruel  jest. 

It  is  not  our  object  here  to  vindicate,  but  only  briefly  to 
state,  the  leading  truths  of  Christianity,  as  we  hold  them. 
At  this  elevation,  there  ceases  to  be  any  distinction  between 
sacred  and  profane  history.  All  history  becomes  sacred, 
since  no  branch  of  the  human  race  is  left  out  of  the 
great  work  of  Gospel  preparation.  God  may  have  revealed 
Himself  more  directly  to  one  nation,  but  His  Spirit  has 
been  at  work  in  the  heathen  world  also,  as  it  brooded 
over  chaos  in  the  organisation  of  the  cosmos. 

Let  us  look  more  closely  at  the  great  object  of  the  work 
of  preparation.  It  was  not  designed  to  make  humanity 
bring  forth  its  own  Saviour — for  this  it  could  not  do — 
but  to  prepare  it  to  receive  Him  and  to  join  itself  to  Him. 
Now  the  only  way  to  prepare  it  to  receive  this  royal  gift, 
was  to  arouse  the  desire  after  it.  The  scope  of  the  whole 
work  of  preparation,  then,  is  to  kindle  and  fan  to  a  flame 
this  desire  after  a  Redeemer.  Plato  said,  with  profound 
meaning,  that  desire  is  the  child  of  poverty.  "  To  desire," 
he  added,  "  is  to  love  that  which  as  3'et  we  do  not  possess, 
that  which  is  not  and  of  which  we  feel  the  lack."  The 
first  condition  for  the  development  of  desire  is  then  a 
deep  sense  of  our  present  poverty.  The  more  this  poverty 
is  felt,  the  stronger  the  desire  will  grow.  But  there 
must  also  be  some  anticipation  of  the  object  sought,  else 
desire  will  flag  or  sink  into  despair.  The  object  of  the 
work  of  preparation  is  to  fester  this  spirit  of  desire  and 
of  expectation. 

The  aspect  of  this  great  subject  which  comes  speci- 
ally before  us  in  the  present  volume,  is  the  preparation  for 
the  Gospel  that  was  going  on  in  the  ancient  world.  We 
recognise  at  the  outset,  that  this  preparation  assumed  a 
unique  character  in  Judea.  There,  in  the  midst  of  much 
that  was  purely  human,  God  made  Himself  known  by 
positive  revelations  and  direct  manifestations  of  His  power 


INTR  OD  UCTION.  xxix 


and  presence,  the  authentic  record  of  which  we  have  in 
the  pages  of  the  Bible.  It  was  necessary  that  the  land 
where  Messiah  was  to  be  born,  should  be  preserved  from 
the  pollutions  of  idolatry.  There  is  a  striking  corre- 
spondence, however,  between  the  great  phases  of  the 
rehgious  evolution  in  this  land  of  revelation,  and  those 
of  the  great  historic  nations  of  antiquity.  Both  are  in 
harmony  with  the  law  of  progressive  reciprocity  between 
the  Divine  and  the  human,  on  which  hinges  the  moral 
character  of  religion.  We  shall  recognise  also  that  all  the 
institutions  and  revelations  of  Judaism  tend  to  foster  the 
desire  for  salvation,  which  is  the  great  end  of  the  Gospel 
preparation  everywhere. 

If  we  turn  now  to  this  work  as  carried  on  in  the 
heathen  nations  of  antiquity,  we  find  it  admirably  summed 
up  in  Paul's  preaching  at  Athens :  "  The  God  that  made 
the  world  and  all  things  therein  .  .  .  hath  made  of  one 
every  nation  of  men  for  to  dwell  on  the  face  of  the  earth, 
and  hath  determined  their  appointed  seasons  and  the 
bounds  of  their  habitation,  that  they  should  seek  God,  if 
haply  they  might  feel  after  Him  and  find  Him,  though  He 
is  not  far  from  every  one  of  us." 

This  is  the  true  keynote  of  the  philosophy  of  history. 
To  seek  after  this  unknown  God  through  all  the  gloom 
of  the  pagan  night,  only  illumined  by  a  few  immortal 
truths,  shining  Hke  stars  of  hope ;  to  renew  the  search 
again  and  again,  urged  on  by  the  restless  yearning  after 
the  Divine,  which  man  can  never  quell ;  to  recognise  after 
each  fresh  attempt,  his  powerlessness  to  solve  his  own 
difficulties  or  satisfy  his  own  aspirations  ;  this  is  the  Divine 
work  of  preparation  going  on  in  the  pagan  world.  Thus 
that  world  learns  by  bitter  experience,  the  same  truths 
which  are  taught  by  revelation  in  Judea.  The  whole 
history  of  the  ancient  heathen  world,  is  nothing  else  than 
this  long  wandering  of  the  human  soul  in  search  of  the 
still  "  unknown  God,"  the  coming  Deliverer, 


INTR  on  UCTION. 


In  this  groping  after  God,  the  incentive  to  perseverance 
is  conscience.  This  has  the  immense  advantage  of  being 
based  upon  a  direct  certainty,  a  sacred  obligation.  Thus 
it  is  a  much  safer  guide  in  the  intuition  of  the  Divine, 
than  speculative  reason  which  is  prone  to  lose  itself  in 
abstractions. 

Strange  to  say,  nature,  in  which  "  the  everlasting 
power  and  Divinity  of  God "  are  so  clearly  to  be  seen, 
has  always  been  (contrary  to  its  original  intention)  the 
great  hindrance  to  man's  finding  the  true  God,  who  is 
close  to  him  all  the  time,  and  speaking  through  the  voice 
of  nature.  And  yet,  even  in  the  darkest  hours  of  naturism, 
conscience  has  lifted  up  its  protest.  Under  all  skies,  we 
hear  its  inspired  voice  above  the  gross  superstitions  and 
subtle  speculations  of  pantheism.  It  is  ever  reaching 
out  after  its  moral  ideal,  dimly  discerned  through  the 
incense  clouds  of  ceremonial  worship.  It  is  ever  lament- 
ing that  it  has  not  realised  its  ideal,  and  its  penitential 
wail  rises  above  festive  chants  and  paeans  of  glory.  It 
never  ceases  to  call  for  a  God  greater  than  any  it  has 
yet  known. 

The  religious  development  of  the  pagan  world  begins 
with  nature  worship.  This  naturism  sets  its  stamp  upon 
all  the  religions  of  the  ancient  East,  though  not  to  the 
extinction  of  their  purer  elements.  It  is,  however,  an 
influence  ultim.ately  fatal  to  them  all.  The  attempt  to 
find  God  in  nature  (which  does  not  contain,  though  it 
does  manifest,  Him)  always  ends,  as  in  Buddhism,  in 
mere  negation.-  In  Greece,  naturism  rises  gradually  into 
humanism,  which  gives  predominance  to  the  moral  idea  in 
the  conception  of  the  Divine,  but  never  wholly  frees  itself 
from  dualism. 

Thus  Greek  humanism,  under  its  most  perfect  form, 
after  purifying  the  popular  religion,  finally  deals  it  a 
death-blow,  substituting  for  it  only  an  elevated,  though 
still     imperfect,    mioral    ideal.       It    thus    intensifies    the 


INTR  OD  UCTION. 


aspiration  after  a  better  religion.  This  is  fostered  by 
all  the  outward  conditions  of  that  remarkable  period. 
Through  the  Roman  conquest,  the  barriers  between  East 
and  West  had  been  thrown  down.  The  generation 
contemporary  with  Christ,  found  itself  in  the  thick  of  a 
general  battle  of  the  gods  and  of  the  old  religions. 
Perceiving  how  the  travail  of  twenty  centuries  had  thus 
ended  in  an  abortion,  it  put  up  to  God,  through  its  noblest 
voices,  a  prayer,  half  choked  in  sobs,  that  He  would  at 
length  open  the  heavens  and  send  down  the  true  God  so 
earnestly  yet  vainly  sought.  The  most  expressive  symbol 
of  this  state  of  mind  is  found  in  that  mysterious  altar, 
inscribed  "  To  the  Uti known  God"  which  Paul  saw  in 
Athens  when  he  carried  the  Gospel  to  that  city. 

Such,  in  broad  outline,  is  the  work  of  Gospel  preparation, 
to  the  detailed  study  of  which  we  now  address  ourselves.^ 

*  It  is  not  our  intention  to  attempt  an  epitome  of  the  great  works 
which  deal  with  the  moral  history  of  the  ancient  world.  We  have  re- 
ferred to  many  of  these  in  the  course  of  the  present  work,  especially  in 
illustration  of  the  various  systems  dealing  with  the  formation  of  myths. 
We  may  simply  mention  here  the  learned  works  of  M.  de  Rougemont, 
"Le  peuple  primitif/'  and  "  Les  deux  cites."  The  particular  aim  of  the 
writer  is  to  show  that  the  elements  of  truth  found  in  the  paganism  of  both 
East  and  West  are  derived  from  primitive  tradition.  The  view  taken  by 
M.  Cesar  Malan,  in  his  work  "Les  grands  traits  de  I'histoire  religieuse 
de  I'humanite  et  du  Christianisme,"  approaches  much  more  nearly  to  our 
own.  He  divides  the  history  of  the  ancient  world  into  two  great  periods, 
corresponding  the  one  to  paganism,  the  other  to  Judaism — "  (l)  L'homme 
cherchant  Dieu  ;  (2)  Dieu  cherchant  rhomme."  The  various  theories 
relating  to  the  origin  and  evolution  of  religion  in  histor3^,  are  discussed 
in  mj"^  "Study  of  Origins"  (Book  IV.  chap,  iii.),  from  the  materialistic 
evolutionism  of  Herbert  Spencer  and  the  pantheism  of  Hegel,  to  the 
idealism  of  Pfleiderer  and  Revilie. 


BOOK   I. 
THE  ANCIENT  EAST. 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE  STARTING-POINT  OF  THE    RELIGIOUS  EVOLUTION. 

LET  us  begin  with  man  as  far  back  as  science  can 
carry  us,  that  is  to  say,  at  the  close  of  the  Tertiary, 
or  at  latest,  at  the  beginning  of  the  Quaternary  period.^ 
At  this  stage  the  only  documents  we  have  to  decipher 
are  some  rude  implements  or  shapeless  remains  found  in 
caves,  in  company  with  the  bones  of  animals  now  extinct, 
or  which  must  have  migrated  to  other  climes  under  the 
influence  of  the  later  geological  crises  which  gave  to  the 
surface  of  our  planet  its  present  form.  We  find  in  man, 
even  at  this  primitive  stage,  all  the  marks  of  intellectual 
and  moral  superiority,  although  lie  wears  for  royal 
vesture  only  the  skin  of  a  wild  beast,  and  has  as  his 
sole  sceptre  a  roughly-hewn  flint,  which  he  uses  at  once 
as  a  weapon  and  a  tool.  Yet  even  these  are  tokens 
not  to  be  mistaken  of  his  kingly  estate,  for  he  could  not 
have  made  himself  clothing  out  of  the  spoils  of  the  chase, 
or  fashioned  the  roadside  flint  into  an  instrument  of 
service,  unless  he  had  possessed  the  faculty  of  rising 
above  the  sensations  of  the  moment,  and  associating  the 
future  with  the  past  by  means  of  reflection  on  his  own 
experience.  The  very  presence  of  the  tool  bespeaks  in 
its  maker  a  power  of  memory  and  of  prevision,  the  reason 
w^hich  can  generalise,  and  hence  can  produce  an  instru- 
ment adapted  for  his  use  in  war  or  work.  To  the  primi- 
tive garb  of  skins  we  find  man  soon  adding  some  uncouth 
ornament.     However  rude  the  art,  it  reveals  an  instinct 

'  I  have  treated  this  subject  at  some  length  in  my  "Study  of  Origins," 
Book  IV.,  ch.  ii.  I  refer  the  reader  to  the  decisive  conclusions  drawn 
by  M.  Quah-efages  in  his  booli  entitled  "  Hommes  fossiles  et  hommcs 
Eauvagc5.  Ktudcs  d'Anthropologic."  Also  to  his  articles  on  the  same 
subject  in  the  Journal  des  Savaiis,  for  iS]5   (Paris,  Baillicre). 


4     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

for  the  beautiful,  the  desire  to  modify  the  crude  form  of 
things. 

Again :  upon  the  delicate  bones  of  the  reindeer  killed  by 
him  in  hunting,  he  draws  his  own  likeness  and  retraces 
the  scenes  of  the  chase,  sometimes  with  singular  vividness 
and  accuracy.  There  is  an  attempt  to  represent  objects 
so  as  to  recognise  them.  This  is  one  of  the  distinctive 
characteristics  of  man,  who  is  never  satisfied,  like  the 
brute  creation,  with  expressing  sensations  and  desires  by 
signs,  but  names  and  describes  objects.  Further  there  is 
in  this  primitive  drawing  the  germ  of  all  art,  which  begins 
by  recalling  to  the  mind  of  man  some  object  he  has  seen, 
but  gives,  at  the  same  time,  a  mental  impression  of  it, 
which  will  by-and-by  transfigure  and  idealise  the  reality. 
The  rod  of  command  gives  the  first  rough  suggestion  of 
the  organisation  of  the  family  and  of  society,  arguing  the 
presence  of  intellectual  faculties,  which  are  traceable  in  the 
skull  even  of  the  troglodyte.^  It  is  not  surprising  then  that 
in  spite  of  his  muscular  inferiority,  this  cave-man  should 
have  got  the  better  of  the  mammoths  and  bears  which 
waged  war  with  him,  and  should  have  outlived  that  great 
lowering  of  the  temperature  of  the  earth  which  proved 
fatal  to  so  many  of  the  larger  animals  of  the  Tertiary,  and 
even  of  the  Quaternary  period.  The  struggle  for  life  must 
have  been  a  hard  one  for  him  nevertheless,  especially  as 
his  weapons  were  as  yet  of  the  rudest,  and  ill -adapted  to 
resist  the  horns  and  claws  of  the  monsters  by  which  he 
was  surrounded.  But  they  were  wielded  by  a  being  with 
mind,  and  herein  lay  the  secret  of  his  victory. 

Even  in  this  dim  period,  which  was  one  stern  struggle 
for  existence,  this  rude  fighter  showed  himself  capable 
of  higher  thoughts,  embracing  not  only  his  own  past  and 
future,  but  reaching  beyond  the  limits  of  this  earthly 
sphere.  In  the  first  place,  he  buried  his  dead,  thus  showing 
that  the  affection  which  united  him  to  his  kindred,  outlived 
the  death  of  the  body;  nay  more,  that  he  had  some  intui- 
tion of  the  prolongation  of  their  existence,  for  he  laid  their 
weapons  and  tools  beside  them  in  the  grave.       Even  the 

'  The  skull  of  the  old  man  of  Cro-Magnon  was  found  by  Broca  to  be 
superior  in  capacity  by  1 19  centim.  to  the  average  given  b3'  125  Parisian 
skulls  of  the  19th  century.     See  Quatrefagcs,  "  Hommes  fossiles,"  p.  65. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  EVOLUTION. 


bones  of  little  children  were  sometimes  placed  within  the 
skull  of  the  father,  as  though  to  perpetuate  the  faniily 
relation  in  the  strange  abode  of  the  dead.  Skulls  belong- 
ing to  the  Neolithic  age  have  been  found  perforated,  thus 
showing  that  trepanning  was  practised  in  this  remote 
period. 

It  has  been  generally  supposed  that  this  treatment  was 
resorted  to  as  a  means  of  exorcismg  the  evil  spirit,  which 
was  the  reputed  cause  of  nervous  diseases.  It  seems 
certain  that  the  trepanned  skulls  of  the  dead  were  used  as 
charms  against  these  same  evil  spirits,  whether  for  the 
benefit  of  the  deceased  or  of  the  survivors.  We  thus  get 
a  glimpse  of  a  conflict  waged  by  primeval  man  agamst 
the  powers  of  the  invisible  world,  more  formidable  than 
mammoth  or  aurochs.  "  The  study  of  prehistoric  trepan- 
ning," says  Broca,  ''  proves  beyond  a  question  that  the 
men  of  the  Neolithic  age  believed  in  a  life  in  which  the 
dead  retained  their  individuality,  for  these  amulets  were 
placed  within  the  skull  of  the  dead  man,  and  were  intended 
to  secure  for  him  happiness  and  exemption  from  evil."^  We 
conclude,  with  M.  Quatrefages,  ,that  the  belief  in  another 
life,  and  in  the  continued  identity  of  the  individual,  existed 
in  the  earliest  times  of  the  geologic  era,  just  as  we  find 
it  to-day  among  the  tribes  of  Tasmania  and  Australia.''' 
Edgar  Quinet  well  says  :  "  In  this  being,  in  whom  I  did 
not  know  if  I  was  to  find  an  equal  or  a  slave  of  all 
other  creatures,  the  instinct  of  immortality  reveals  itself 
in  the  midst  of  death.  What  a  future  I  begin  to  discern 
for  this  strange  animal,  hardly  knowing  how  to  build  foi" 
himself  a  hut  better  than  a  wild  beast's  lair,  and  yet  con- 
cerning himself  to  provide  an  eternal  home  for  his  dead  ! 
I  seem  to  be  touching  the  first  stone  on  which  rests  the 
edifice  of  things  Divine  and  human.  After  such  a  begin- 
ning, all  that  remains  is  easy  of  belief."  ^ 

Upon  this  still  heaving  soil  began  the  long  history 
of  the  human  soul  seeking  the  true  God,  Amidst  the 
shocks  of  convulsed  nature,  man  made  his  first  gropings 
after  the  supernatural.  It  seemed  to  come  near  to  him 
[in  the  form  of  maleficent  spirits,  which  he  must  conjure 

*  Quatrefages,  "Hommes  fossiles,"  p.  130.  -  Ibid,  p.  i^l, 

^  Edgar  Quinet,    "  La  Creation," 


6     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

first  in  life  and  supremely  in  death.  Death  itself,  while 
it  was  a  great  mystery,  did  not  seem  to  him  the 
end.  Prehistoric  man  tried  to  protect  even  in  death  the 
objects  of  his  affection.  His  ignorance  was  profound  ; 
but  the  tenderness  of  his  thought  for  those  whom  he 
had  lost,  is  but  the  more  touching  because  of  the  childish 
arts  used  to  express  it.  This  is  still  the  attitude  of 
a  large  portion  of  mankind,  including  the  savage  peoples 
of  the  Old  and  New  World.  Of  this  we  have  abundant 
documentary  evidence,  and  we  are  able  to  realise  v.-ith 
some  precision,  the  social  and  religious  status  of  the 
rude  childhood  of  the  world,  for  savage  tribes  are  its 
living  representatives  among  us.  We  must.be  cautious 
however  in  the  conclusions  we  draw  from  mere  travellers' 
tales.  We  must  bear  in  mind  that  the  tellers  are  often 
ill-informed,  for  the  savage  does  not  willingly  confide 
to  strangers  his  religious  beliefs.  It  is  also  important 
that  we  should  not  affirm  hastily  that  extreme  degradation 
is  always  indicative  of  the  high  antiquity  of  any  communit}'^, 
either  social  or  religious.  This  would  be  to  ignore  the 
possibility  of  retrogression  and  decadence;  but  this 
possibility  is  often  a  realised  fact  among  savage  peoples, 
as  we  are  told  by  the  masters  of  ethnographical  science.^ 
We  must  be  careful  neither  to  romance  about  the 
savage,  as  Rousseau  does,  nor  to  caricature  him  as  do  those 
v/ho  make  him  the  connecting  link  between  the  man  and 
the  monkey.  Without  going  further  into  this  subject  which 
opens  a  very  wide  field  of  literature,^  and  deals  with  many 
abstruse  questions,  we  may  briefly  characterise  this  early 
and  very  important  phase  of  the  development  of  religion. 
Though  it  has  been  left  behind  for  long  ages  in  countries 
where  the  historic  evolution  has  been  carried  on  under 
favourable  conditions  of  civilisation,  as  in  Western  Asia, 
it  nevertheless  formed  the  subsoil  of  that  evolution  which 
has  struck  its  roots  deep  into  it.     Hence  the  importance 


'  Waitz,  "Anthropologic  der  Natur-Volker,"  vol.  ii.,  p.  68  et  seq. 

^  Besides  the  work  by  Waitz  aheady  mentioned,  we  would  refer  the 
reader  to  Tylor's  "  Primitive  Culture,"  and  to  Sir  John  Lubbock's  "Origin 
of  Civilisation."  Also  to  M.  Quatrefage's  invaluable  book,  "Hommes 
fossiles  et  hommes  sauvages,"  a  repertory  of  all  the  latest  scientific 
discoveries. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  EVOLUTION. 


of  understanding  aright,  this  prehminary  phase  of  re- 
ligious development  which  we  find  still  going  on  among 
the  savage  tribes  of  our  own  day.  Unless  we  rightly 
apprehend  the  initial  stage,  the  history  of  the  religions  ot 
the  ancient  world  will  remain  a  riddle  to  us.  We  shall 
content  ourselves  with  a  general  survey,  supporting  our 
argument  by  unquestioned  facts  in  relation  to  savage 
nations,  which  have  been  ascertained  and  recorded  by  the 
ethnologists  of  our  day. 

If  we  could  picture  to  ourselves  the  cave-man,  especially 
in  the  Neolithic  age,  when  he  seems  to  have  arrived  at 
the  full  development  possible  in  that  geologic  era,  he  would 
doubtless  appear  to  us  precisely  like  the  savage  of  Oceania, 
Africa  or  North  America.  From  a  social  point  of  view 
the  identity  is  complete,  except  for  a  few  external  varia- 
tions, the  results  of  difference  of  soil  and  climate.  We 
find  the  same  flint  tools  and  rude  weapons,  without  any 
industry  properly  so  called.  There  is  the  same  primitive 
attempt  at  ornament,  the  same  inadequate  clothing. 
Food  is  mainly  provided  by  the  chase.  There  is  seldom 
any  attempt  at  cultivation  of  the  soil,  except  under  very 
favourable  conditions.  There  is  even  less  attempt  at 
trading  by  barter  among  the  inhabitants  of  islands  not 
immediately  adjacent,  than  there  was  among  the  trog- 
lodytes, in  some  of  whose  caves  we  find  traces  of  pro- 
visions coming  from  very  various  sources.  Family  life 
exists  only  in  its  crudest  form.  The  woman  is  either  the 
slave  of  the  man,  doing  all  the  work,  or  the  sport  of  his 
wild  passions.  Of  social  organisation  the  only  trace  is 
the  rod  of  command  which  the  tribe  obeys.  How  can  we 
account  for  this  long  arrest  of  progress,  under  conditions 
infinitely  more  favourable  than  the  era  of  geologic  crises  \\\ 
v/hich  the  troglodyte  lived  ? 

What  have  been  the  causes  of  this  stagnation  or  retro- 
gression ?  This  is  the  secret  which  the  ages  past  will 
for  ever  keep.  Nevertheless,  eveii  socially  considered, 
man  never  sinks  so  low  as  to  lose  all  trace  of  his  manhood 
and  to  stand  on  the  same  level  as  the  beast.  Even  among 
the  most  degraded  savages,  we  find  tools,  arrovv^s,  hunting 
knives,  quaint  attempts  at  adornment,  a  constant  endea- 
vour to  embellish  the  real.     Still  more  emphatically  does 


8     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

humanity  assert  itself  in  the  domain  of  the  feelings.  The 
savage  is  undoubtedly  cruel  to  his  enemies,  and  indulges 
in  sanguinary  and  abominable  rites,  but  his  affections 
express  themselves  sometimes  with  touching  pathos  and 
poetry. 

Here  and  there  we  gather  fragrant  blooms  in  these 
bare  and  desolate  places.  What  a  line  cadence  of  mother- 
love  we  catch  in  this  lament  over  a  little  dead  child, 
uttered  by  a  mother  belonging  to  one  of  the  most  savage 
tribes  of  New  Zealand  : — 

"  Behold  me  brought  low  with  sorrow  !  My  heart- 
strings quiver  for  my  little  child.  Oh,  my  friends,  I  am 
like  a  tree  laid  low  upon  the  ground  !  I  am  bowed  down 
like  the  long  and  supple  fronds  of  the  black  fern,  and 
am  not  able  to  lift  up  myself  again  because  of  my  child. 
Where  is  he  now  ?  Oh,  my  child !  who  sprang  so 
joyously  into  my  arms  whenever  I  said,  Come  to  me, 
oh,  my  son  ! "  ^ 

If  we  pass  on  to  religion,  we  have  to  acknowledge  with 
Waitz  that  there  is  no  spot  upon  earth  where  its  influence 
is  not  felt.'-^  Tylor,  who  can  hardly  be  suspected  of 
spiritualistic  leanings,  says  distinctly  :  "  So  far  as  I  can 
judge  from  the  immense  mass  of  accessible  evidence, 
we  have  to  admit  that  the  belief  in  spiritual  beings 
appears  among  all  low  races  with  whom  we  have  attained 
to  thoroughly  intimate  acquaintance."  ^ 

M.  de  Quati"efages  considers  religious  sentiment  to  be 
the  distinctive  trait  of  humanity.  He  even  goes  so  far 
as  to  say,  that  apart  from  this  there  is  no  essential  differ- 
ence between  man  and  the  brute  creation.  This  is  an 
exaggeration ;  for  before  man  can  rise  to  the  religious 
sentiment,  to  the  intuition  of  a  higher  life  and  of  spiritual 
forces,  he  must  possess  faculties  capable  of  grasping  the 
general  in  the  particular,  that  is  to  say  he  must  possess 
the  power  of  reasoning  on  the  li.^e  of  which  he  is  con- 
scious within  himself. 

Now  the  brute  creation  never  attains  to  this.  With 
this   reservation,   we  admit    that   the  religious  sentiment 

'  Quatrefages,  "  Hommes  fossiles,"  p.  456. 

*  Waitz,  "  Anthiopologie  der  Natur-Vdlker,"  p.  171. 

•  "Primitive  Culture,"  Tylor,  vol,  i.,  p.  384. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  EVOLUTION. 


is  the  peculiar  characteristic  of  man ;  it  is  part  of  his 
very  being.  It  cannot  therefore  be  regarded  as  a  mere 
outward  communication  to  him,  simply  a  revelation  from 
without.  It  is  an  intuitive  and  spontaneous  development 
of  his  nature.  He  turns  instinctively  to  the  Divine  as 
the  magnet  to  the  pole.  It  is  idle  to  pretend,  with  the 
rationalist  school  of  Bonald,  that  religion,  like  all  other 
social  truths,  comes  to  us  from  without,  through  the  primary 
revelation  of  language.  The  higher  life  would  in  that 
case  be  only  a  lesson  learnt ;  but  in  order  to  learn  that 
lesson,  it  must  be  understood,  and  in  order  to  understand 
it,  there  must  be  a  true  affinity  for  it.  Truth  can  only 
be  grasped  if  there  is  a  pre-established  harmony  between 
it  and  the  soul  of  man.  In  this  sense,  w^e  only  truly 
learn  that  which  we  already  know.  If  man  were  not  a 
religious  being  by  nature,  he  would  never  become  reli- 
gious. But  because  he  is  a  religious  being,  we  find  traces 
of  religion  in  his  life  ever3'where  and  always,  even  under 
the  least  favourable  conditions.  We  reject  then  abso- 
lutely, the  traditional  explanation  of  the  origin  of  religions 
which  would  trace  them  back  simply  to  some  ancient 
tradition. 

We  do  not  deny  that  the  primeval  religion  which  man 
possessed  in  the  mysterious  phase  of  his  being  before  he 
had  separated  himself  from  God,  may  have  left  its  traces, 
and  that  among  some  privileged  peoples  these  traces 
have  been  preserved  with  more  distinctness  than  among 
the  great  mass  of  mankind,  scattered  to  the  four  corners 
of  the  earth  by  enforced  dispersion.  We  recognise  in 
the  most  ignorant  worship  a  vague  acknowledgment  of 
the  Fall,  a  dim  perception  that  life  was  once  a  better  and 
a  higher  thing.  But  whatever  value  we  may  attach  to 
these  relics  of  a  venerable  tradition,  we  are  bound  to  admit 
that  the  hearth  upon  which  the  sacred  fire  of  religion 
ever  burns,  is  the  soul  of  man.  The  fire  may  smoulder 
long  beneath  a  heap  of  ashes  and  dust,  but  in  the  end 
it  will  burst  out  in  tongues  of  leaping  flame. 

We  refuse  then  to  admit  that  religion  springs  from  the 
mere  contemplation  of  nature,  or  from  the  action  of 
natural  forces,  whether  beneficial  or  baleful.  Unless  we 
give  up  the  fundamental  principle   of  reason  which  re- 


10     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

quires  for  every  effect  an  adequate  cause,  and  argue  that 
the  less  can  produce  the  greater,  we  must  admit  that  the 
mere  contemplation  of  nature,  even  in  its  most  surpassing 
grandeur,  must  fail  to  give  any  true  intuition  of  the  Divine, 
just  as  the  ravages  of  the  reaper  Death  can  convey  to  us 
no  conception  of  immortality.  These  grand  truths  spring 
up  intuitively  from  the  depths  of  man's  moral  being. 
Undoubtedly  man  does  not  at  first  manifest  this  religious 
intuition  in  its  fulness  and  purity,  for  the  simple  reason 
that  he  is  himself  not  conscious  of  it,  and  that  it  has 
been  long  obscured  by  parasitic  overgrowths.  It  may 
be  compared  to  the  formative  idea  which  Claude  Bernard 
discerns  even  in  the  formless  embryonic  life,  and  without 
which  that  life  would  never  develop  into  a  definite  being 
of  a  certain  order. 

The  development  of  the  religious  life  is  like  that  of  the 
natural.  It  is  not  produced  by  the  mere  evolution  of 
latent  forces.  Action  from  without  is  needed  to  bring 
this  development  to  its  normal  issue.  So  the  processus 
of  religion  cannot  be  complete  without  the  manifestation 
of  God  Himself;  and  as  we  have  already  observed,  that 
manifestation  in  its  adequate  and  supreme  form  can  be 
nothing  less  than  a  positive  revelation  of  Divine  love  in 
all  its  fulness.  Even  where  the  way  has  not  been  di- 
rectly prepared  for  this  supreme  revelation — I  mean  by 
positive  partial  revelations — it  is  indirectly  prepared  by 
the  very  course  of  history  under  the  directing  hand  of 
God,  and  yet  more  by  the  operation  of  that  Divine  Spirit 
which  never  ceases  to  strive  with  the  spirit  of  man. 

To  revert  to  the  religion  of  the  savage.  This  is,  as  we 
have  said,  a  part  of  his  moral  being,  but  it  forms  as  yet 
only  the  dim  envirojiment  of  the  sacred  germ  which  is 
destined  to  live  and  grow.  This  germ  is  long  exposed  to 
noxious  influences  Vv'hich  impede  its  right  development. 
But  it  is  still  there.  Even  when  half  stifled  by  noisome 
overgrowths  it  sends  out  now  and  again  strong  and 
living  shoots.  Hence  even  in  the  religion  of  savage 
nations,  while  we  never  find  a  pure  monotheism,  we  yet 
find  the  monotheistic  idea  constantly  recurring,  and  some- 
times asserting  itself  with  singular  force  in  the  midst  of 
contradictions  and  obscuring  errors.     We  only   contend 


THE  RELIGIOUS  EVOLUTION. 


for  primitive  monotheism  in  this  restricted  sense.  We 
never  pretend  that  at  the  base  and  root  of  all  religions, 
whether  of  the  ancient  or  the  barbarous  world,  we  have 
any  evidence  of  the  worship  of  one  God  reigning  without 
a  rival  over  the  universe.  On  the  contrary,  God  is  con- 
stantly confounded  with  nature  itself,  or  at  least  the  two 
are  so  blended  that  it  is  hard  to  separate  them,  though 
as  we  shall  see,  they  are  never  absolutely  identified. 
The  deity  shares  his  power  with  a  multitude,  of  gods, 
some  of  whom  are  very  nearly  his  equals.  Nevertheless 
he  keeps  a  pre-eminence  which  sometimes  amounts  to  an 
unchallenged  supremacy. 

Among  the  Mexicans,  the  Tahitians,  the  Australians, 
the  Dajaks  of  Borneo,  the  Zulus  and  the  negroes  of  the 
Gold  Coast,  we  find  the  worship  of  one  supreme  God. 
"  From  north  to  south  of  Africa,"  says  Waitz,  "  the 
negroes  adore  one  supreme  God,  in  addition  to  their 
numberless  fetishes."  ^ 

If  then  monotheism  cannot  be  said  to  have  existed  in 
a  pure  form  in  one  universal  primitive  religion,  we  yet 
find  unmistakable  traces  of  it  in  all  places  and  through- 
out all  times.  In  a  word,  the  monotheistic  intuition  is 
inseparable  from  the  conception  of  religion.  The  very 
word  religion  implies  adoration  of  that  which  goes  beyond 
the  order  of  nature.  The  primary  characteristic  of  the 
order  of  nature  is  limitation — the  necessary  result  of  its 
subdivision.  The  primary  idea  of  the  Divine  is  one  of 
infinity,  of  supreme  excellence,  an  intuition,  so  to  speak, 
of  the  absolute.  Hence  this  primary  intuition  shows  a 
perpetual  tendency  to  reappear  and  to  free  itself  from  all 
opposing  elements,  keeping  unshaken,  though  often  be- 
clouded, its  belief  in  one  supreme  and  sovereign  God. 

This  monotheistic  intuition  is  always  accompanied  by 
faith  in  the  persistence  of  the  human  personality  after 
death.  As  this  fact  is  universally  admitted  it  need  not 
be  dwelt  upon  here.  With  these  two  fundamental  notions 
is  combined  the  moral  intuition,  the  sense  of  moral  obli- 
gation which  is  at  the  root  of  all  human  relations.  Some 
idea   of  justice    underlies    the    most   rudimentary    social 

'  Waitz,  "Anthropologic,"  vol.  ii.,  p.  l68,  et seq.  See  also  Presscnse, 
".Study  of  Origins,"  p.  510. 


12     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

constitution.  We  may  go  further  and  show  that  the 
moral  idea  has  never  been  completely  dissociated  from, 
the  religious,  but  on  the  contrary  the  two  have  become 
more  and  more  intimately  united.  The  belief  in  some 
retribution  after  death  is  now  admitted  to  be  very  general, 
even  by  ethnologists  whom  no  one  will  suspect  of  a 
spiritual  bias.-^  The  sense  of  impurity  and  of  the  need 
of  expiation  are  manifested  in  the  most  barbarous  modes 
of  worship.  We  admit  that  the  atonement  to  which  they 
have  recourse  is  often  as  cruel  as  the  wrath  of  the  deity 
whom  the  worshippers  seek  to  appease.  There  is  a  phase 
in  which  sacrifice  is  nothing  more  than  food  offered  to 
the  gods.  But  a  higher  idea  soon  manifests  itself. 
Remorse  comes  in ;  the  consciousness  of  guilt  prompts 
the  sacrifice,  and  the  priest,  who  at  first  was  regarded  in 
the  light  of  an  enchanter,  becomes  a  mediator  between 
man  and  the  deity. 

For  this  reason  the  Tahitians  require  of  their  priests, 
a  life  of  special  purity  and  consecration.  Hence  we 
argue  that  the  idea  that  some  purification  is  necessary, 
must  have  been  an  element  in  man's  religious  intuition. 
Thus  the  wise  and  deep  saying  of  Hartmann  is  verified  : 
"  Religion  springs  naturally  from  the  dismay  with  which 
the  heart  of  man  regards  evil  and  sin,  and  the  desire 
it  feels  to  account  for  their  existence,  and  if  possible  to 
put  an  end  to  it."  ^ 

In  a  word,  religion  forms  part  of  the  higher  life  of 
man  as  man.  At  the  lowest  stage  of  savage  life,  it 
implies  an  intuition  of  the  Divine,  that  is  of  the  absolute ; 
faith  in  immortality  ;  the  elements  of  morality,  which  are 
inseparable  from  the  idea  of  God  and  of  a  future  life  ; 
and  lastly  the  bitter  consciousness  of  a  curse  resting  upon 
the  world,  and  of  pollution  demanding  atonement.  We 
have  a  strong  confirmation  of  the  reality  and  intrinsic 
grandeur  of  this  primitive  religious  sentiment,  under  the 
mass  of  superstitions  and  errors  by  which  it  is  overgrown, 
in  the  significant  fact,  that  the  lowest  savage  is  found 
capable  of  apprehending  the  purest  religion — the  religion 
of  the  gospel — when  it  is  brought  to  him  by  missionaries. 

'  Girard  de  Rialhe,  "  Mythologie  comparee,"  p.  1 15. 

^  Hartmann,  "  Les  religions  de  I'avenir,"  Germer  Bailliere,  1876. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  EVOLUTION.  13 

There  could  be  no  more  decisive  proof  of  the  degree  to 
which  he  possesses  the  reh'gious  faculty. 

This  elementary  religion  does  not  remain  in  the  state 
of  mere  vague  and  inert  instinct.  It  affects  the  whole 
course  of  history  and  all  human  affairs,  by  virtue  of  the 
faculty  which  man  possesses  of  remembering  and  anti- 
cipating, and  connecting  the  future  with  the  past.  The 
movement  of  religious  history  is  directed  by  an  inward 
logic,  which  brings  out  spontaneously  the  results  of  the 
premisses  laid  down.  This  purely  ratural  dialectic  is  the 
law  of  reason.  There  is  nothing  fi.talistic  about  it,  for 
it  may  have  its  breaks ;  its  sequence  may  be  interrupted 
by  new  ideas,  and  new  influences  may  be  introduced. 
These  in  their  turn  become  new  premisses,  the  consequences 
of  which  are  deduced  by  the  mind  of  man  and  evolved 
in  the  course  of  history. 

Here  we  must  draw  an  important  distinction.  This 
historical  development  soon  comes  to  an  end  among 
peoples  who  remain  in  the  isolation  of  savage  life,  while 
it  is  continually  advancing  among  civilised  nations  which 
come  into  frequent  contact  with  other  civilised  peoples. 
Contact  between  different  nations,  even  if  it  be  brought 
about  by  means  of  war,  is  the  mosc  powerful  stimulant 
to  progress.  The  development  of  savage  nations,  though 
it  goes  such  a  little  way,  is  particularly  interesting 
because  it  helps  us  to  understand  the  first  beginnings  of 
religion  in  its  cradle  in  the  ancient  East.  Indeed  the 
beliefs  of  the  old  Chaldee  closely  resembled  those  of  the 
savages  of  to-day,  both  in  the  Old  and  New  World.  We 
are  thus  enabled  to  study  upon  a  large  scale  and  in 
living  characters,  the  first  stages  of  the  religious  deve- 
lopment among  the  nations  of  history.  Ethnographical 
science,  after  proving  that  there  was  really  a  stone  age, 
presenting  the  s|me  characteristics  all  over  the  globe, 
has  established  on  no  less  decisive  evidence  the  essential 
identity  of  the  various  religions  of  savage  nations,  not 
only  in  their  primary  rudiments,  but  in  their  spon- 
taneous development.^ 

'  "  Religions  des  peuples  non  civilises,"  par  M.  Albert  Reville  (Paris, 
Fischbacher,  1SS3).  "  Les  religions  de  Mexique,  et  de  I'Afrique  ccntrale," 
by  the  same  (1SS5). 


14    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

Throughout  North  and  South  America,  in  Oceania  and 
Africa  alike,  the  religious  idea  of  savage  nations  goes 
through  three  stages — naturism,  animism,  and  anthropo- 
morphism. We  do  not  mean  that  these  are  distinct  and 
successive  phases  :  as  a  rule  they  all  co-exist.  The 
lower  stage,  which  forms  the  basis  of  the  religious  edifice, 
abides  not  as  a  mere  memory  of  the  past,  but  as  a  persis- 
tent influence  or  belief.  This  identity  in  the  development 
of  savage  nations  does  not  prevent  great  variety  both 
in  the  symbolism  used  to  express  it,  and  in  the  part 
assigned  to  certain  objects  of  worship.  The  diversity  of 
the  aspects  of  nature  and  the  incidents  of  local  history 
produce  these  differences,  which  moreover  never  go  so 
far  as  to  modify  the  nature  of  the  religious  development. 
This  is  always  marked  by  the  same  three  stages,  at  first 
successive,  afterwards  concurrent. 

When  man  in  his  rude  and  uncultured  state  finds  him- 
self confronted  with  the  vastness  of  nature,  his  first  im- 
pression is  of  his  own  insignificance.  He  is  dazzled  by 
the  splendour  and  overwhelmed  by  the  resistless  force  of 
nature.  He  feels  himself  in  the  grasp  of  a  mighty  Power, 
which  inspires  him  now  with  admiration,  now  with  awe. 
He  has  no  control  whatever  over  it ;  he  can  neither  under- 
stand nor  utilise  it.  He  has  not  even  learnt  how  to 
cultivate  the  soil  so  as  to  energise  its  latent  fruitfulness. 
The  idea  of  the  Divine,  of  the  Absolute,  which  slumbers 
in  the  depths  of  his  being,  awakes  in  view  of  this  awful 
majesty  of  nature.  He  feels  the  presence  of  God,  and  he 
lends  an  ideal  grandeur  to  the  natural  by  projecting  upon 
it,  in  some  sort,  the  vague  notion  of  the  infinite,  the 
absolute,  which  is  in  him,  though  unconscious. 

Thus  naturism  is  the  first  form  which  the  religious 
sentiment  assumes.  Let  us  not  suppose  however,  that 
even  in  its  first  manifestation,  the  %avage  completely 
identifies  the  Divine  with  terrestrial  and  finite  things ;  for 
these  alone  would  never  have  suggested  it  to  him.  If 
he  were  left  unaided,  to  spell  out  the  book  of  nature,  he 
would  never  read  in  it  the  name  of  God.  It  is  because 
that  name  is  written  in  characters  however  bedimmed  on 
the  depths  of  his  own  being,  that  he  transfers  it  to  the 
external  world,  in  which  he  finds  only  partial  and  lower 


THE  RELIGIOUS  EVOLUTION.  15 

manifestations  of  the  Divine,  Iiowever  impressive  tliey 
may  be  to  him  in  that  early  stage,  when  sight  is  the 
great  inlet  of  ideas,  and  reflection  is  almost  as  rapid  as 
sensation. 

The  savage  has  nowhere  stopped  at  what  is  called 
naturism.  He  has  always  supplemented  it  by  animism 
or  spiritism,  which  is  a  sort  of  primitive  philosophy,  the 
belief  that  there  is  a  soul  or  spirit  informing  all  the  pheno- 
mena of  nature.^ 

Beneath  every  manifestation  of  the  outer  world,  small 
or  great,  he  discerns  a  spirit,  a  soul  answering  to  the 
spiritual  part  of  man  which  inhabits  his  body.  Herbert 
Spencer  connects  this  primitive  dualism  with  the  dream 
of  the  hunter,  who  all  through  his  heavy  sleep  fancies 
that  he  is  carrying  on  his  favourite  occupation.  He  thus 
fjets  the  idea  of  a  second  self,  different  from  the  form 
which  lies  sleeping  in  the  hut,  beneath  its .  covering  of 
skins.  Looking  at  the  shadow  which  he  casts  before 
him  as  he  walks  along,  he  is  led  to  identify  his  seconci 
self  with  this  shadow,  and  under  this  form  he  represents 
to  himself  his  departed  ancestor.^  That  the  fact  of  the 
sliadow  cast  by  the  body  of  the  savage,  has  some  relation 
to  the  ideas  he  has  formed  of  his  own  twofold  nature, 
we  do  not  deny.  But  that  the  notion  of  a  spirit  distinct 
from  the  body,  invested  as  we  find  it  with  a  religious 
character,  should  have  arisen  out  of  so  common  an  expe- 
rience, we  cannot  admit. 

In  reference  to  this,  as  to  naturism,  we  say  the  religious 
idea  was  innate  in  the  man,  and  was  only  evolved,  not 
originated,  by  the  observation  of  outward  facts.  Thus 
the  savage  who,  though  he  may  wholly  fail  to  grasp  its 
higher  functions,  has  yet  become  conscious  that  there 
is  a  spirit  within  him,  distinct  from  his  physical  beinf;' 
imagines  that  there  is  such  a  soul  in  all  natural  objects 
from  the  star  in  the  heavens  to  the  beast  that  supplies 
him  with  food. 

Stock  and  stone  are  to  him  alike  informed  with  a  living- 
spirit.  Every  such  spirit  seems  to  him  indued  with  a 
mysterious  force  capable  of  doing  him  service,  but  still 

'  See  "Outlines  of  the  History  of  Religion,"  C.  P.  Tiele,  p.  19. 
*  Herbert  Spencer,  "Principles  of  Sociolog}\" 


i6     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

more  likely  to  do  him  harm,  for  pessimism  always  in- 
stinctively prevails.  He  feels  himself  under  the  spell 
of  some  mysterious  malediction,  which  he  vainly  tries 
to  shake  off.  Hence  he  does  not  remain  passive  in  view 
of  those  numberless  manifestations  of  the  Divine  which 
surround  him  with  a  circle  of  terror,  though  as  we  have 
seen,  he  still  has  the  intuition  of  a  higher  divinity  con- 
trolling all.  The  fetishes  carved  by  the  savage  in  wood 
or  stone,  are  designed  to  protect  him  against  the  evil 
spirit. 

Max  MilUer  has  shown  by  arguments  which  cannot  be 
refuted,  that  fetishism  has  never  been  the  simple  adora- 
tion of  the  material  object.-^ 

Indeed  there  can  be  no  adoration  without  a  sense  of 
the  Divine,  which  must  imply  at  least  the  recognition  of 
some  being  greater  than  man.  The  fetish  alone  is  but 
a  poor  fragment  of  the  material  world.  In  order  to  make 
it  a  god,  it  must  be  invested  with  some  attribute  not 
really  possessed  by  it,  but  evolved  from  the  inner  con- 
sciousness of  the  worshipper.  It  is  beyond  question, 
moreover,  that  fetishism  never  exhausts  the  religion  of 
any  people  however  primitive.  It  is  always  associated 
with  ideas  and  practices  which  imply  the  existence  of 
other  gods,  and  do  not  exclude  that  relative  monotheism 
of  which  we  have  spoken.  Nowhere  does  the  true  cha- 
racter of  fetishism  appear  with  more  clearness  than  in  the 
religion  of  the  negroes  of  the  Gold  Coast. 

In  the  first  place,  we  find  clearly  marked  in  their 
religious  beliefs,  the  connecting  link  between  animism  or 
spiritism  and  the  doubling  of  the  human  personality,  for 
they  make  the  spirit  of  man  a  separate  being,  to  which 
they  give  a  name.  It  is  called  Kla  during  life,  and  Sisi 
after  death.     The  negroes  worship   these  spirit  fetishes, 

'  "The  word  fetish  (Portuguese  y^iVifo  corresponding  to  Latin  factitius) 
is  the  recognised  name  for  amulets  and  similar  half  sacred  trinkets.  The 
Portuguese  sailors  gave  the  name  to  the  talismans  of  the  savages,  because 
they  themselves  used  in  the  same  v^ay  their  rosaries,  dauby  iir.ages, 
■^^-ooden  crosses,  etc.  ...  A  negro  was  worshipping  a  tree  supposed 
to  be  his  fetish,  with  an  ofiering  of  food,  when  some  European  asked 
whether  he  thought  the  tree  could  eat.  The  negro  replied  :  '  Oh,  the  tree 
is  not  the  fetish  ;  the  fetish  is  a  spirit  and  invisible,  but  he  has  descended 
into  the  tree.' " — "  Lectures  on  the  Origin  and  Growth  of  Religion."  Max 
Muller,  Lecture  2. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  EVOLUTION.  17 

which  are  the  spirits  of  the  air.  They  call  them  Wongs, 
and  believe  them  to  proceed  from  Nyongmo — their  supreme 
god  to  whom  they  pray  daily.^ 

Sometimes  the  fetish  is  an  animal  which  becomes  the 
particular  god  of  the  tribe,  as  in  the  totemism  of  the  North 
American  Indians.  After  a  time,  these  animals  come  to 
be  regarded  as  symbolic  personifications  of  higher,  and 
especially  of  sidereal  divinities.  In  this  character,  they 
become  objects  of  worship,  and  we  shall  find  them  occupy- 
ing a  place  in  religions  of  a  much  higher  order. 

The  worship  of  the  stars  was  at  first  a  mere  extension 
of  fetishism — an  idealised  fetishism  in  this  sense,  that  the 
stars  were  regarded  as  the  highest  manifestation  or  in- 
corporation of  the  Divine,  which  was  still  essentially  a 
spirit,  the  immaterial  element  enshrined  in  a  sensible 
form.  We  must  always  bear  this  in  mind  when  we  study 
the  great  systems  of  sidereal  worship.  We  observe  in 
the  first  place,  that  fetishism  applied  to  the  sun  and  moon, 
must  of  necessity  assume  a  character  of  peculiar  grandeur. 
We  can  hardly  conceive  the  profound  impression  which 
would  be  made  by  the  vast  expanse  of  heaven  upon  un- 
civilised man,  whose  simple  life  left  him  free  to  observe 
without  interruption  the  phenomena  of  nature.  The  sun 
climbing  the  horizon  in  the  freshness  and  purity  of  the 
dawn,  and  flooding  the  evening  sky  with  the  purple 
glories  of  its  setting,  would  fill  him  with  a  rapture  of 
delight.  Not  less  impressive  would  be  to  him  the  solemn 
beauty  of  the  moonlight  spreading  its  veil  of  silver  over 
the  weary  earth.  This  same  sun  he  perceives  to  be  the 
source  of  fruitfulness,  decking  the  plain  with  its  robe  of 
flowers.  Its  rays  can  also  be  at  times  consuming  flames 
of  fire..  Then  the  heavens  are  clothed  with  blackness, 
the  thunder  rolls,  and  the  storm-wings  carr}'  desolation 
far  and  wide.  It  is  easy  to  understand  how  the  ideas  of 
power  and  grandeur  would  connect  themselves  in  the 
mind  of  the  savage  with  the  sidereal  bodies,  and  especially 
with  the  sun  upon  which  all  the  life  of  our  planet  depends. 

It  is  in  the  nature  of  things  that  this  symbolism  should 


'   '  Die  Relig.  der  Neger,"  SteinJumser.     Magazin  fi'tr  neueste  Geschichte 
der  evaiigelisch.  Mission  (Basle,  1856). 


i8     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

culminate  in  anthropomorphism,  of  which  it  was  indeed 
ah'cady  the  unconscious  expression,  for  animism  was  but 
the  transference  of  the  dual  life  of  man  to  material  objects. 
The  attributes  proper  to  humanity  were  transferred  to  the 
sidereal  gods.  Especially  were  these  deities  supposed 
to  be  subject  to  that  great  law  of  the  sexes  in  which  the 
savage  recognises  the  very  law  of  life.  Is  it  not  one  of 
the  great  motors  of  his  being,  awakening  the  deepest 
passions  both  of  love  and  hate  ?  This  universal  frensy 
of  love,  described  by  Lucretius  in  immortal  verse,  the 
savage  feels  in  all  its  force  without  any  refining  influence. 
He  apostrophises  it  in  his  gods  whom  he  classes  in 
couples.  They  will  never  teach  him  chastity,  for  it  is 
from  the  sensual  side  of  life  that  he  most  nearly  ap- 
proaches them.  Some  of  them,  however,  he  regards  as 
tutelary  divinities,  intervening  between  him  and  the  powers 
of  evil.  These  are  around  him  on  every  side,  the  agents 
of  the  great  spirit  which  delights  to  torment  him. 

We  must  be  careful  not  to  exaggerate  this  primitive 
anthropomorphism.  It  is  always  strongly  tinctured  with 
nalurism,  which  takes  away  from  it  all  character  of  in- 
dividuality. The  moral  idea  enters  very  slightly  into  it, 
and  is  always  enshrouded  in  the  material.  There  is  a 
long  interval  to  be  traversed  between  it  and  the  Greek 
humanism,  which  disengages  anthropomorphism  alto- 
gether from  mere  naturism,  and  creates  for  itself  gods 
with  a  real  and  definite  personality,  no  longer  the  mere 
sport  of  the  wild  forces  of  nature. 

The  worship  of  ancestors  must  be  clearly  distinguished 
from  this  naturalistic  anthropomorphism.  It  sprang  out 
of  the  universal  faith  of  savages  in  the  persistence  of  the 
human  personality  beyond  the  present  life.  What  a  pro- 
found impression  the  death  of  the  father  of  the  family 
must  have  produced  in  the  cabin  of  the  savage.  As  they 
bent  over  the  remains  of  the  loved  one  who  had  been 
taken  away  with  a  stroke,  his  sons  could  not  believe  he 
had  for  ever  vanished.  The  awful  silence  of  death  struck 
them  as  a  sublime  mystery.  They  could  not  realise  that 
all  was  ended  with  him  from  whose  lips  but  yesterday 
they  heard  the  war  cry,  or  in  whose  eyes  they  met  the 
look    of  love.      Convinced    that   tliis    bod}^  now  cold    in 


THE  RELIGIOUS  EVOLUTION.  19 

death,  had  contained  a  spirit  that  was  distinct  from  itself, 
they  followed  it  in  imagination  into  the  realm  of  shades. 
Even  to  the  dead  body  they  attributed  a  certain  persistent 
vitality,  to  sustain  which  they  surrounded  it  with  its 
favourite  food  and  familiar  weapons.  But  the  spirit 
hovered  above  the  earth,  and  as  they  held  it  to  be  divine 
in  its  nature,  they  ascribed  to  it  a  peculiar  power  which 
inspired  them  at  once  with  awe  and  trust.  Hence  the 
worship  of  ancestors,  which  played  so  large  a  part  among 
the  ancients,  as  M,  Fustel  de  Coulanges  has  shown,^  We 
recognise  in  this  one  of  the  most  pathetic  forms  of  the 
primitive  religious  instinct. 

Such  is  in  substance  the  religion  of  savage  nations, 
which  is  a  mere  development  of  the  beliefs  of  prehistoric 
man.  Upon  this  common  background,  symbolism  has 
assumed  an  endless  diversity  of  forms,  according  to  the 
incidents  of  climate  and  national  life.  We  find  the  same 
primary  elements  in  the  rites  of  worship.  The  priesthood 
and  sacrifice  have  passed  through  the  same  phases  of  deve- 
lopment. Beginning  with  a  sort  of  magical  idea,  they  have 
risen  gradually  to  a  more  or  less  conscious  desire  after 
purification  and  expiation.  Idolatry  was  an  advance  upon 
pure  fetishism  in  worship,  for  the  Divine  was  for  the  first 
time  separated  from  its  material  environment,  and  concen- 
trated in  a  representation,  the  symbolic  character  of  which 
became  more  and  more  pronounced. 

We  can  follow  this  primitive  religion  through  its  whole 
development,  not  only  among  savage  hordes,  but  in  great 
nations,  which  existed  for  centuries  outside  the  pale  of 
civilisation  and  current  history.  This  is  remarkably  the 
case  with  China  until  the  reform  of  Confucius.  In  the 
primitive  religion  of  the  Celestial  Empire,  the  whole  world 
was  assigned  to  spirits  which  were  themselves  closely 
identified  with  natural  objects.  These  were  subject  to 
a  supreme  spirit  residing  in  the  heavens  and  sharing  his 
authority  with  the  spirit  of  the  earth.  The  latter  repre- 
sented the  feminine  element  in  the  pair  of  deities.  Ances- 
tors were  invariably  deified.  Most  of  the  temples  were 
consecrated  to  them.     The  Emperor,  as  representing  the 

'  Fustel  de  Coulanges,  "La  Cit6  Antique." 


20    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

Spirit  of  heaven,  was  the  high  priest  of  this  essentially 
la^'-religion.^ 

We  learn  from  the  work  of  M.  Albert  Reville  on  the 
religions  of  Mexico,  of  Central  America,  and  of  Peru,  what 
an  advanced  development  may  be  attained  under  favour- 
able circumstances  by  an  animistic  religion,  even  when 
left  to  itself.  The  Mexican  empire  succeeded  in  constitu- 
ting a  social  state  with  a  skilfully  ordered  hierarchy  under 
the  rule  of  a  proud  and  harsh  aristocracy.  In  Peru,  the 
Incas  assigned  a  real  place  to  justice  and  humanity  in  the 
government.  Among  these  two  peoples,  the  great  sidereal 
fetish  gained  the  ascendant  over  all  other  fetishes,  though 
these  did  not  absolutely  disappear.^ 

The  worship  of  the  sun,  and  of  the  moon  his  spouse, 
prevailed  from  one  end  to  the  other  of  these  vast  empires. 
The  sun  could  not  but  be  regarded  as  a  living  personality, 
when  even  fetishes  of  a  lower  order  were  ijivested  with 
the  attributes  of  man.  But  there  was  no  true  humanism 
in  the  conception ;  the  sun  was  still  a  fierce  and  fearful 
power  of  nature  to  be  worshipped  with  hecatombs  of  the 
slain.  This  cultus  was  indeed  the  most  cruel  of  all. 
The  worshippers  believed  that  the  victim,  at  the  moment 
of  his  immolation,  became  identified  with  the  cruel  god  to 
whom  he  was  sacrificed.  Hence  they  devoured  the  warm 
bleeding  heart,  that  they  might  feed  on  the  Divine.  A 
third  great  god  appears  in  the  background  of  this  terrible 
religion.  This  god,  who  symbolised  at  first  the  east  wind, 
assumed  the  form  of  a  serpent-bird.  He  seems  to  repre- 
sent a  better  religion  belonging  to  the  past.  Hence  the 
hope  is  cherished  that  he  will  come  back  from  the  regions 
of  the  West,  to  which  he  has  been  relegated  by  the  sun 
god.  He  is  to  be  the  deliverer  of  the  coming  ages.  Thus 
this  sanguinary  religion  was  felt  to  be  inadequate,  and 
even  its  devotees  were  looking  for  some  better  way.  It 
was  given  up  moreover  to  the  grossest  idolatry. 

In  Peru  we  find  a  genuine  theocracy.  The  Incas  pretend 
to  be  the  true  descendants  of  the  sun.     Their  religious 


'  "  Outlines  of  the  History  of  Religion,"  C.  P.  Tiele.     Translated  from 
the  Dutch. 
^Reville,  "Religion  de  Mexique,"  pp.  44,  45. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  EVOLUTION. 


beliefs  are  substantially  the  same  as  those  of  the  Mexicans, 
but  sacrifices  of  blood  are  with  them  the  exception.  The 
notion  of  the  Deity  is  more  human,  as  is  indeed  implied  by 
the  direct  descent  of  the  sovereign  of  the  country  from  the 
sun.  Confession  is  one  of  the  rites  of  the  Mexican  religion. 
This  indicates  a  feeling  of  guilt.  The  idea  of  retribution 
is  also  present,  and  in  some  measure  connects  the  moral 
with  the  religious  idea.^  In  Peru  also,  confession  was 
practised.  The  priesthood  was  there  better  organised 
than  in  Mexico.  A  certain  degree  of  purity  was  required 
of  the  priests.  The  virgin  priestesses  were  dedicated  to  a 
chastity  as  absolute  as  that  of  Vestals.  The  idea  of  the 
survival  of  the  dead,  associated  with  the  worship  of  an- 
cestors, is  found  again  in  these  two  countries.  The  para- 
mount duty  of  the  Peruvian  is  submission  to  the  Incas. 
These  appear  to  have  generally  exercised  a  salutary  and 
civilising  influence.  One  of  them  truly  expressed  the 
sublime  idea  lying  at  the  root  of  naturism,  when  he  caid 
to  a  priest  :  "There  must  needs  be  above  our  father,  the 
sun,  a  greater  and  more  powerful  ruler,  at  whose  behest 
he  pursues  his  daily  unresting  round."  - 

In  the  religions  of  China  and  of  South  America  we  find 
the  highest  point  which  naturism  can  reach.  In  South 
America  at  least,  there  seems  to  have  been  an  intuition 
of  its  insufficiency,  and  of  the  need  for  some  further 
development.  This  development  took  place  in  countries 
where  there  was  a  fusion  of  great  nations,  and  a  true 
historic  evolution  was  thus  inaugurated.  Let  us  suppose 
these  elements  of  primitive  naturism,  merged  in  the  broad 
and  vivifying  current  of  history,  among  races  susceptible 
of  civilisation,  favoured  in  their  geographical  position,  and 
connected  with  each  other  by  easy  ways  of  communication, 
real  arteries  for  the  circulation  of  ideas.  Ideas  will  then 
no  longer  merely  revolve  in  a  circle,  as  in  the  great  deserts 
of  savage  countries  or  in  insular  isolation.  Under  the 
new  conditions,  the  religious  evolution  is  free  to  go  on. 
The  elements  composing  the  primitive  religious  beliefs, 
will  form  fresh  combinations  and  arrive  at  conclusions  at 


*  Reville,  "  Religion  de  Mexique,"  p.  333. 
\  Ibid.,  pp.  170,  185. 


22     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY 

once  bolder  and  more  comprehensible.  Thus  the  animism 
of  the  prehistoric  races  and  of  savage  peoples,  introduced 
into  Chaldea,  does  not  remain  stationary.  It  goes  on 
developing  till  it  becomes  Greek  humanism.  We  propose 
to  follow  the  phases  of  this  history  in  Egypt  and  Phoenicia, 
and  among  the  primitive  Aryan  races  in  Persia  and  India. 
We  shall  thus  mark  the  successive  stages  of  this  great 
evolution,  each  one  of  them  the  result  of  a  logical 
sequence. 

We  have  already  said  that  there  are  many  pauses  and 
retrogressions  in  the  course  of  this  long  religious  history 
of  the  ancient  world.  More  than  once  the  development 
seems  to  stop,  and  the  old  conceptions,  which  had  ap- 
parently been  outgrown,  resume  their  sway  for  a  time 
over  the  minds  of  men.  This  phenomenon  is  easily  ex- 
plained, if  we  remember  that  the  aspiration  after  an 
unknown  God,  which  is  the  constant  spur  to  religious 
development,  always  reaches  immeasurably  beyond  the 
temporary  solutions  found  for  it.  When  there  has  been 
any  real  progress  in  the  religious  conception,  there 
comes  a  moment  of  repose,  of  satisfaction ;  but  soon 
the  inadequacy  of  the  solution  makes  itself  irresistibly 
evident.  In  its  disappointment,  the  soul  imagines  that 
the  past  was  better,  and  tries  to  return  to  its  old  belief 
in  an  idealised  form.  Thus  we  find  Greek  humanism 
reverting  to  the  celebration  of  the  mysteries  of  primitive 
naturism.  These  are,  however,  but  passing  retrogressions. 
Soon  the  process  of  development  is  resumed,  and  a  fresh 
advance  is  made,  which  in  its  turn  is  left  behind,  till 
the  advent  of  the  day  of  full  deliverance,  that  is  of  the 
full  illumination  of  which  humanity  is  capable. 

The  history  of  the  religious  development  of  the  ancient 
world  is  like  a  great  musical  symphony.  At  first  the 
dominant  thought,  or,  to  speak  more  accurately,  the 
dominant  feeling  of  the  master,  which  is  the  fundamental 
theme  of  his  work,  vibrates  full  of  power  and  sweetness 
in  the  midst  of  apparent  confusion,  wild  sometimes  as  the 
roaring  of  a  storm.  For  one  moment  it  comes  out 
distinctly,  rising  above  the  minor  cadences  and  melting 
harmonies ;  but  again  and  again  it  is  lost,  till  at  length 
it  bursts  forth  in  one  triumphant  paean,  like  the  song  of 


THE  RELIGIOUS  EVOLUTION.  23 

deliverance  of  a  spirit  long  fettered  by  the  lower  forces 
of  its  nature,  and  now  at  length  realising  its  enfranchise- 
ment. The  sigh  after  the  unknown  God,  so  long  in- 
articulately breathed,  becomes,  upon  purified  lips  in  the 
evening  of  the  old  world,  a  prevailing  prayer  which  opens 
heaven  and  brings  deliverance  down. 


CHAPTER   II. 

CHALDEO- ASSYRIAN  RELIGION. 

§  I. — Its  Sources.^ 

CHALDEA  offers  the  best  field  for  tracing  the  develop- 
ment of  religion  when  once  it  has  come  within  the 
cycle  of  history  and  of  civilisation.^  We  are  certain  that 
the  earliest  developments  were  everywhere  identical ;  but 
in  Chaldea  the  religious  evolution  presents,  at  its  outset, 
the  most  striking  analogy  to  the  religion  of  savage  nations 
which  we  have  been  describing. 

We  must  carefully  distinguish  between  different  races 
and  different  periods,  although  the  primitive  type  is  pre- 
served with  singular  persistence.  The  religious  edifice 
has  risen  to  larger  proportions  in  course  of  time,  but  the 

•  "Histoire  ancienne  des  peuples  de  I'Orient,"  by  G.  Maspero;  "Chal- 
dean Magic,"  F.  Lenormant.  "The  Chaldean  Account  of  Genesis,"  G. 
Smith ;  "  Comparative  History  of  the  Egj'ptian  and  Mesopotamian 
Religions,"  C.  P.  Tiele  ;  "  Outlines  of  the  History  of  the  Ancient  Religions," 
by  the  same ;  "  History  of  Art  in  Chaldea  and  Assyria,"  G.  Perrot  and 
C.Chipiez;  "Cuneiform  Inscriptions  and  the  Old  Testament,"  E.  Schrader; 
"History  of  Babylonia,"  G.  Smith;  "Notes  on  the  Early  History  of  Baby- 
lonia and  Assj'ria,"  by  the  same. 

^  New  light  has  been  thrown  upon  the  entire  history  of  these  countries 
by  the  great  excavations  of  recent  years.  In  1846  Botta  discovered  the 
palace  of  Sargon  under  the  ruins  of  Nineveh.  Layard  discovered  Calah 
with  its  palaces  and  temples  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Tigris.  At  Nineveh 
itself,  he  discovered  the  palace  of  Sennacherib,  with  its  library  chamber 
i"ull  of  treasures,  and  the  palace  of  Esarhaddon.  The  "Assyrian  Dis- 
coveries," of  G.  Smith,  brought  to  light  the  famous  texts  containing  the 
accounts  of  the  Creation  and  of  the  Deluge,  which  remind  us  of  Genesis. 
The  works  of  Rawlinson,  of  Oppert,  and  of  Lenormant,  have  reproduced 
and  translated  most  of  the  cuneiform  inscriptions.  (See  also  "  Les  ruines 
de  Ninive,  ou  descriptions  des  palais  detruits  sur  les  bords  du  Tigre,"  by 
Leon  Peer.  Paris,  1864).  In  the  Louvre  and  the  British  Museum  the  most 
remarkable  results  of  these  excavations  are  to  be  seen. 


CHA LDEO-A  SSYRIAN  RELIGION.  25 

basis  has  remained  the  same.  Hence  the  importance  of 
forming  a  just  idea  of  the  primitive  religion  of  Chaldea. 
The  country  described  by  this  name  only  included  a  part 
of  the  great  plain  of  Mesopotamia.  The  Persian  Gulf 
bounded  it  on  the  south ;  the  Tigris  on  the  east.  On  the 
west  it  bordered  on  the  Arabian  desert ;  on  the  north  it 
again  met  the  Tigris,  at  the  point  where  it  separates 
Upper  from  Lower  Mesopotamia.  Lastly,  it  bordered  on 
Assyria,  over  which  it  was  to  exert  so  great  an  influence, 
though  for  centuries  it  was  only  a  subordinate  province. 
The  Euphrates  and  the  Tigris  are  to  these  countries  what 
the  Nile  is  to  Egypt.  Rain  is  rare  in  this  region.  The 
sun  shines  in  summer  with  an  unmitigated  splendour 
which  parches  up  the  ground.  The  winter  is  cold  with 
little  snow,  therefore  without  damp.  The  fertilisation  of 
the  soil  depends  on  the  overflowing  of  the  two  rivers. 
Hence  the  climate  is  unwholesome,  deadly  miasma  ex- 
haling from  the  deposit  of  mud  left  when  the  water  has 
subsided.  The  dwellers  in  such  a  region  would  instinc- 
tively have  a  peculiar  dread  of  the  noxious  influences  at 
work  in  nature  around  them,  spreading  death  beneath 
their  feet.  The  very  breath  exhaled  from  the  marsh 
assumes  the  guise  of  a  destroying  spirit.  Close  by  is  the 
desert,  from  which  comes  the  deadly  blast  of  the  sirocco. 
Chaldea  was  originally  occupied  by  two  great  races. 
The  first  was  divided  into  two  branches :  the  Accadians, 
inhabiting  the  mountainous  districts ;  and  the  Sumirs,  the 
dwellers  on  the  plain.  The  second  of  these  races,  called 
Cushites,  came  from  the  foot  of  Ararat,  or  perhaps  from 
the  peninsula  of  Arabia.  While  its  Semitic  origin  cannot 
be  positively  affirmed,  it  is  certain  that  it  had  great 
affinities  with  the  Semitic  race.^  There  has  been  much 
discussion  about  the  origin  of  the  former  race — the  Acca- 
dian.  It  is  impossible  to  determine  exactly  whence  it  came. 
Was  it  a  branch  of  the  Turanian  race,  with  which  it 
has  certain  affinities  of  language  and  of  religious  thought 
(accounted  for  possibly  by  the  fact  that  it  belonged  to 
the  same  stage  of  culture),  or  did  it  come  from  Bactriana  ? 
The  problem  is  not  to  be  solved  in  the  present  state  of 

*  Tide,  "  Comparative  History." 


26     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

science.^  We  cannot,  however,  accept  the  idea  that  the 
Accadians  may  be  identified  with  the  Cushites.  These, 
who  were  always  the  lords  of  Assyria,  had  no  doubt 
become  intermingled  with  their  predecessors  in  Chaldea, 
long  before  they  brought  them  into  subjection ;  but  it  is 
a  mistake  to  ignore  all  difference  of  race  between  them. 
One  fact  is  decisive  against  such  identification,  namely, 
the  retention  of  the  Chaldean  tongue  as  a  dead  language 
in  the  official  sacred  books  of  the  country,  with  an  Assyrian 
translation  appended.  The  duality  of  language  implies 
a  duality  of  race.'"^ 

It  is  of  the  highest  interest  to  be  able  to  assure  our- 
selves, from  these  incontestable  records,  what  was  the 
primitive  religion  of  the  Chaldeans  in  its  Accadian  form. 
Most  important  liturgical  texts  have  been  discovered 
among  the  shapeless  ruins  of  ancient  buried  cities. 

The  history  of  the  Chaldeo-Assyrians  divides  itself  into 
three  periods.  In  the  first,  we  have  the  pure  Accadian  ele- 
ment developing  the  primitive  type  of  the  national  religion, 
and  setting  its  ineffaceable  seal  upon  it,  without  any 
mythological  accretions.  In  the  second  period  it  is  different. 
The  Cushite  element  asserts  itself  more  and  more  strongly. 
There  is  still  the  worship  of  particular  local  deities, 
though  the  differences  between  them  are  simply  nominal 
or  formal.  Little  by  little  we  find  these  secondary  differ- 
ences merged  in  one  unified  mythologic  system,  in  which 
a  preponderating  part  is  assigned  to  astrologic  or  astro- 
nomic symbolism.  The  third  period  is  Assyrian,  presided 
over  by  the  god  Assur,  and  by  the  king  of  Assyria  as  his 
highest  embodiment.  In  this  period  all  the  earlier  beliefs 
are  developed  and  systematised,  but  none  of  them  are 
abandoned ;  for  we  find  the  Chaldean  religion  forming  as 
it  were  the  basement  of  all  this  imposing  edifice. 

'  M.  Lenormant  confidently  maintains  the  Turanian  origin  of  the  Acca- 
dians.    "Chaldean  Magic,"  c.  xix. 

^  M.  Halevy,  in  the  "Journal  Asiatique"  (June,  1874),  maintains  the 
identity  of  the  Accadians  with  the  Cushites.  Tide's  conclusions,  which 
we  have  given,  seem  to  us  to  observe  the  true  limits  of  scientific  certaintj^ 
(Tiele,  "Comparative  History.")  The  cuneiform  writing  from  being 
ideographic  soon  became  phonetic.  The  term  cuneiform  is  descriptive  of 
the  manner  in  which  the  inscription  was  made  on  the  stone,  the  cha- 
racters being  nail-headed  or  wedge  shaped. 


CHALDEO- ASSYRIAN-  RELIGION  27 

Before  proceeding  to  give  an  outline  of  tliis  religion  in 
its  successive  phases,  we  will  take  a  brief  review  of  the 
traditions  which  carry  us  back  as  far  as  the  Creation  and 
the  great  crisis  of  the  Asiatic  Deluge.  By  a  comparison 
of  these  traditions  with  the  narrative  in  Genesis,  we  see 
that  the  two  spring  from  a  common  source,  but  soon 
diverge  in  their  religious  conceptions;  for  while  in 
Genesis  we  are  raised  to  the  purest  monotheism,  the 
Chaldean  legend  constantly  descends  to  a  naturalistic 
interpretation.  In  1872  the  Chaldean  account  of  the 
Creation  and  of  the  Deluge,  was  discovered  by  Mr.  G. 
Smith  in  the  Library  of  Assurbanipal,  upon  fragments  of 
clay  tablets.^ 

"  Of  the  curious  myths  connected  with  the  Babylonian 
religion,  there  are  several  examples.  .  .  .  The  account  of 
the  Creation  is  unfortunately  too  mutilated  for  translation. 
It  appears  to  record,  that  when  the  gods  in  their  assembly 
made  the  universe  there  was  confusion,  and  the  gods  sent 
out  the  spirit  of  life.  They  then  create  the  beast  of  the 
field,  the  animal  of  the  field,  and  the  reptile  or  creeping 
thing  of  the  field,  and  fix  in  them  the  spirit  of  life.  Next 
comes  the  creation  of  domestic  animals  and  the  creeping 
things  of  the  city.  There  are  in  all,  fourteen  mutilated, 
lines  remaining  of  the  inscription."  ^ 

As  regards  the  Fall,  the  texts  discovered  by  Mr.  Smith 
allude  to  mere  convulsions  of  nature,  presented  under  the 
form  of  Titanic  struggles  between  the  primeval  God  and 
the  great  serpent,  which  is  only  chaos  personified.  A 
cylinder  now  in  the  British  Museum,  represents  a  man 
and  woman  by  a  tree,  on  one  branch  of  which  are  two 
large  fruits  towards  which  they  are  stretching  out  their 
hands.  Behind  the  woman  appears  a  serpent.  This  is 
obviously  the  very  symbolism  of  Genesis.  The  story  of 
the  Deluge  has  been  reconstructed  almost  entire  by  means 
of  the  fragments  of  a  national  poem  found  in  the  library 
of  Assurbanipal.     The    story    is    told    by  Xisuthrus    the 

'  A  translation  is  given  in  Smith's  "Assyrian  Discoveries."  See  M. 
Bonnet's  learned  treatise,  "Les  decouvertes  Assyriennes  et  Ic  rccit  de 
la  Genese,"  Montauban,  1S84.  Berosus  gives  a  third  abridged  version 
of  the  Deluge,  taken  from  the  sacred  books  of  Babylon. 

*  "Assyiian  Discoveries,"  G.  Smith,  p.  397. 


28    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

Chaldean  king.     The  gods  tell  him  of  the  judgment  which 
is  coming,  and  the  tablet  reads  as  follows : — 

Column  I, 

21.  "  Make  a  ship  after  this.  .  .  . 

22 I  destroy  (?)  the  sinner  and  life.  .  .  . 

23 Cause  to  go  in  ?  the  seed  of  life  lall  of  it  to  the  midst 

of  the  ship. 

24.  The  ship  which  thou  shalt  make 

25.  600  (?)  cubits  shall  be  the  measure  of  its  length,  and 

26.  60  (?)  cubits  the  amount  of  its  breadth  and  height. 
27 into  the  deep  launch  it." 

28.  I  perceived  and  said  to  Hea  my  Lord : 

29.  "  The  shipmaking  thou  commandest  me, 

30.  when  I  shall  have  made, 

31.  young  and  old  will  deride  me." 

32.  Hea  opened  his  mouth  and  spake  and  said  to  me  his  servant : 

33.  "  .  .  .  .  thou  shalt  say  unto  them 

34 he  has  turned  from  me  and 

35 fixed  over  me 

36 like  caves.  .  .  , 

37 above  and  below 

38 closed  the  ship.  .  .  . 

39.  .  .  .  the  flood  which  I  will  send  to  you, 

40.  I  into  it  enter  and  the  door  of  the  ship  turn. 

41.  "  Into  the  midst  of  it  thy  grain,  thy  furniture  and  thy  goods, 

42.  thy  wealth,   thy  womenservants,  thy  female  slaves,  and  the 

young  men, 

43.  the  beasts   of  the  field,  the  animals  of  the  field  all,  I  will 

gather  and 

44.  I  will  send  to  thee  and  they  shall  be  enclosed  in  thy  dooi." 

Then  follows  the  description  of  the  building  of  the 
vessel,  which  was  carefully  overlaid  with  bitumen  within 
and  without,  like  Noah's  ark,  and  the  narrative  goes 
on: — 

Column  II. 

25.  "  All  I  possessed  the  strength  of  it,  all  I  possessed  the  strength 

of  it  silver, 

26.  all  I  possessed  the  strength  of  it  gold, 

27.  all  I  possessed  the  strength  of  it,  the  seed  of  life,  the  whole, 

28.  I  caused  to  go  into  the  ship  ;  all  my  maleservants,  and  my 

female  servants, 

29.  the  beast  of  the  field,  the  animal  of  the  field,  the  sons  of  "the 

people  all  of  them,  I  caused  to  go  up. 

30.  A  flood  Shamas  made  and 

31.  he  spake  saying  in  the  night :  '  I  will  cause  it  to  rain  heavily, 

32.  enter  to  the  middle  of  the  ship  and  shut  thy  door.' 


CHALDEO-ASSYRIAN  RELIGION.  29 

33.  A  flood  he  raised  and 

34.  he  spake  saying  in  the  night :  '  I  will  cause  It  to  rain  {or  it 

will  rain)  from  heaven  heavily.' 

35.  In  the  day  I  celebrated  his  festival 

36.  the  day  of  his  appointment  ?  fear  I  had. 

37.  I  entered  to  the  midst  of  the  ship  and  shut  my  door. 

38.  To  close  the  ship  to  Buzur-sadirabi  the  boatman. 

39.  the  palace  I  gave  with  its  goods. 


40.  The  raging  of  a  storm  in  the  morning 

41.  arose,  from  the  horizon  of  heaven  extending  and  wide, 

42.  Vul  in  the  midst  of  it  thundered  and 

43.  Nebo  and  Saru  went  in  front, 

44.  the  throne  bearers  went  over  mountains  and  plains, 

45.  the  destroyer  Nergal  overturned, 

46.  Ninip  went  in  front  and  cast  down, 

47.  the  spirits  carried  destruction,  1 

48.  in  their  glory  they  swept  the  earth  ; 

49.  of  Vul  the  flood  reached  the  heaven, 

50.  the  bright  earth  to  a  waste  was  turned. 

Column  III. 

1.  The  surface  of  the  earth  like  ....  it  swept, 

2.  it  destroyed  all  life  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  .... 

3.  the  strong  deluge  over  the  people  reached  to  heaven. 

4.  Brother  saw  not  his  brother,  it  did  not  spare  the  people.     In 

heaven 

5.  the  gods  feared  the  tempest  and 

6.  sought  refuge  ;  they  ascended  to  the  heaven  of  Anu. 

7.  The  gods  like  dogs  fixed  in  droves  prostrate. 

8.  Spake  Ishtar  like  a  child, 

9.  uttered  the  great  goddess  her  speech  : 

10.  '  All  to  corruption  are  turned  and 

11.  then  I  in  the  presence  of  the  gods  prophesied  evil. 

12.  As  I  prophesied  in  the  presence  of  the  gods  evil, 

13.  to  evil  were  devoted  all  my  people  and  I  prophesied 

14.  thus  :  "  I  have  begotten  my  people  and 

15.  like  the  young  fishes  they  fill  the  sea."  ' 

16.  The  gods  concerning  the  spirits  were  weeping  with  her, 

17.  the  gods  in  seats,  seated  in  lamentation, 

18.  covered  were  their  lips  for  the  coming  evil. 

19.  Six  days  and  nights 

20.  passed,  the  wind,  deluge,  and  storm,  overwhelmed. 

21.  On  the  seventh  day  in  its  course  was  calmed  the  storm,  and 

all  the  deluge 

22.  which  had  destroyed  like  an  earthquake, 

23.  quieted.     The  sea  he  caused  to  dry,  and  the  wind  and  deluge 

ended. 
34.  I  perceived  the  sea  making  a  tossing 


"3tJ    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANIJY. 

25.  and  the  whole  of  mankind  turned  to  corruption, 

26.  like  reeds  the  corpses  floated. 

27.  I  opened  the  window,  and  the  light  broke  over  my  face, 

28.  it  passed.     I  sat  down  and  wept ; 

29.  over  my  face  flowed  my  tears." 

The  incident  of  the   sending   out  of  the  birds  is  not 
wanting  : 

38.  "I  sent  forth  a  dove  and  it  left.     The  dove  went  and  turned, 

and 

39.  a  resting  place  it  did  not  find,  and  it  returned. 

40.  I  sent  forth  a  swallow  and  it  left.     The  swallow  went  and 

turned, 

41.  a  resting  place  it  did  not  find,  and  it  returned. 

42.  I  sent  forth  a  raven  and  it  left. 

43.  The  raven  went,  and  the  corpses  on  the  water  it  saw,  and 

44.  it  did  eat,  it  swam,  and  wandered  away,  and  did  not  return. 

45.  I  sent  the  animals  forth  to  the  four  winds,  I  poured  out  a 

libation. 

46.  I  built  an  altar  on  the  peak  of  the  mountain, 

47.  by  seven  herbs  I  cut. 

48.  at  the  bottom  of  them  I  placed  reeds,  pines,  and  simgar. 

49.  The  gods  collected  at  its  burning,   the  gods  collected  at  its 

good  burning ; 

50.  the  gods  like  flies  over  the  sacrifice  gathered." 

The  narrative  concludes  with  a  great  contest  among  the 
gods.     But  the  great  god,  when  he 

7.  "  Saw  the  ship  went  with  anger  filled  to  the  gods  and  spirits  : 

8.  '  Let  not  any  one  come  out  alive,  let  not  a  man  be  saved  from 

the  deep.' 

9.  Ninip  his  mouth  opened  and  spake  and  said  to  the  warrior 

Bel 

10.  '  Who  then  will  be  saved  ? '  Hea  the  words  understood. 

11.  and  Hea  knew  all  things. 

12.  Hea  his  mouth  opened  and  spake   and   said  to  the  warrior 

Bel: 

13.  'Thou  prince  of  the  gods  warrior, 

14.  when  thou  art  angry  a  deluge  thou  makest. 

15.  The  doer  of  sin  did  his  sin,  the  doer  of  evil  did  his  evil. 

16.  May   the   exalted   not   be   broken,  may   the   captive    not  be 

delivered. 

17.  Instead  of  thee  making  a  deluge,  may  lions  be  increased  and 

men  be  reduced ; 

18.  instead  of  thee  making  a  deluge,  may  leopards  increase  and 

men  be  reduced ; 

19.  instead  of  thee  making  a  deluge,  may  a  famine  happen  and 

the  country  be  destroyed  ; 


CHA  LDEO-A  SS YRIA  N  R EL  IGION.  3 1 


20.  instead  of  thee  making  a  deluge,  may  pestilence  increase  and 

men  be  destroyed. 

21.  I  did  not  peer  into  the  judgment  of  the  gods. 

22.  Adrahasis  a  dream  they  sent,  and  the  judgment  of  the  gods 

he  heard. 

23.  When  his  judgment  was  accomplished,  Bel  went  up  to  the 

midst  of  the  ship. 

24.  He  took  my  hand  and  raised  me  up, 

25.  he  caused  to  raise  and  to  bring  my  wife  to  my  side  ; 

26.  he   purified  the  country,   he   established  in  a  covenant  and 

took  the  people, 

27.  in  the  presence  of  Hasisadra  and  the  people. 

28.  When  Hasisadra  and  his  wife,  and  the  people,  to  be  like  the 

gods  were  carried  away  ; 

29.  then  dwelt  Hasisadra  in  a  remote  place  at  the  mouth  of  the 

rivers. 

30.  They  took  me  and  in  a  remote  place  at  the  mouth  of  the 

rivers  they  seated  me."  ' 

Notwithstanding  the  naturalistic  colouring  giv^en  by  the 
Chaldean  religion  to  these  narratives,  they  are  of  the 
highest  value,  handing  down  to  us  as  they  do,  a  tradition 
of  almost  incalculable  antiquity.  Abraham  brought  it  with 
him  from  Ur  of  the  Chaldees.  We  know  the  monotheistic 
form  which  it  assumes  in  Genesis.'^ 

§  II. — The  Phases  of  the  Religious  Evolution. 

Let  us  pass  rapidly  under  review  the  three  periods  of 
development  of  the  Chaldeo-Assyrian  religion,  connecting 
them  with  the  history  properly  so  called.  The  two  earlier 
periods  need  not  be  separated,  since  the  second  was  only 
the  complement  of  the  first.* 

As  far  back  as  any  historical  documents  carry  us,  we  find 
in  Chaldea  a  population  emerged  from  the  savage  state. 
The  social  relations  are  controlled  by  laws  which  extend 

'  "Assyrian  Discoveries,"  G.  Smith,  pp.  185,  193. 

'■'The  analogy  between  the  two  traditions  is  admirably  treated  in  Schra- 
der's  book,  "  The  Cuneiform  Inscriptions  and  the  Old  Testament."  It  gives 
a  detailed  commentary  on  the  texts.  The  version  of  Berosus  is  much 
manipulated. 

*  The  principal  authority  is  the  wonderful  collection  in  the  Library  at 
Nineveh,  which  is  given  in  the  "Collection  of  Cuneiform  Inscriptions,"  by 
Sir  Henry  Rawlinson,  1866.  It  is  a  copy  of  the  old  Accadian  texts,  made 
in  the  seventh  century  B.C.,  by  Assurbanipul,  king  of  Assyria,  with  a 
translation  appended. 


32     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

their  protection  even  to  thie  slave,  and  there  is  a  regular 
system  of  taxation.  The  rents  of  the  land  are  determined 
either  according  to  a  fixed  valuation,  or  according  to  the 
current  produce.  Family  ties  are  very  strong.  To  disown 
father  or  mother  is  a  veritable  crime.  A  son  who  had  been 
guilty  of  it  would  be  first  shaved,  then  led  through  the 
streets  of  the  city,  and  finally  expelled  from  the  home. 
The  desertion  of  a  child  is  punished  with  imprisonment. 
The  husband  and  wife  have  not,  however,  equal  rights. 
The  wife  is  liable  to  be  drowned  for  an  offence  which, 
in  the  case  of  the  husband,  entails  only  the  penalty  of  a 
fine.  The  same  punishment  condones  the  ill-treatment  of 
a  slave  by  his  master.^  Imperfect  as  this  system  is,  it 
still  recognises  to  a  certain  extent,  that  right,  not  might, 
should  rule.  The  time  of  the  great  monarchies  has  not 
yet  come.  It  is  a  sort  of  feudal  system  under  a  number 
of  chiefs,  who  are  in  reality  petty  kings.''^ 

Religion  itself  is  still  animism  and  nothing  more,  but 
animism  carried  to  its  furthest  limits,  with  an  attempt  at 
mythology  and  cosmology,  which  only  needs  to  be  extended 
and  systematised  to  become  a  definite  religion.  This  rudi- 
mentary religion  is  really  the  expression  of  terror  and 
despair.  Man  feels  himself  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  the 
power  of  evil,  which  pursues  him  with  relentless  malice. 
It  lurks  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth ;  its  poisonous  breath 
rises  through  every  fissure.  It  haunts  the  river  banks,  is 
borne  on  the  wings  of  the  wind,  thunders  in  the  storm, 
and  like  a  subtle  miasma  creeps  into  his  veins  with  deadly 
fever  or  chill.  In  accordance  with  the  great  idea  of  animism, 
this  maleficent  power  works  through  a  multitude  of  spirits 
or  demons,  who  assume  the  most  various  forms. 

This  superstitious  belief  in  demons  comes  out  in  all 
its  terrors,  in  the  great  collection  from  the  Library  at 
Nineveh,  given  to  the  world  by  Sir  Henry  Rawlinson. 
In  the  first  two  books,  he  enumerates  and  describes  the 
spirits  of  evil,  while  the  third  book  is  filled  with  invoca- 
tions to  the  gods.  There  are  numerous  forms  of  exorcism 
intended  to  conjure  the  power  of  these  demons,  who 
people    the    deserts,    the    mountain    tops,    the    sea,    the 

'  Francois  Lenormant,  "  Etudes  Accadiennes,"  vol.  iii.,  3rd  ed.,  p.  8. 
2  Ibid.,  p.  24. 


CHALDEO- ASSYRIAN  RELIGION.  33 

marshes,  and  enter  into  the  bodies  of  men  to  torment 
them.^  Then  comes  the  enumeration  of  all  the  plagues 
which  this  demoniacal  power  can  let  loose.  Pestilence, 
madness,  nightmare,  sickness,  and  even  involuntary 
celibacy,  are  all  set  down  to  it.^  The  black  gulf  out  of 
which  this  awful  power  is  always  ready  to  leap  forth, 
underlies  all  the  ways  of  men.  It  runs  along  the  bed  of 
the  Tigris  and  Euphrates,  beneath  the  waves  of  the  sea, 
and  through  the  burning  entrails  of  the  mountains.^  The 
demons  go  out  into  all  lands.  They  make  women  barren  ; 
they  chase  the  mother  from  her  home,  and  drive  her  into 
the  desert  with  her  child.  They  stop  the  flight  of  the 
bird  in  the  air,  and  drive  the  terrified  swallow  from  her 
nest  to  wander  wildly  through  space.  Invisible  hunters, 
they  pursue  and  strike  down  the  ox  and  the  lamb.  They 
go  from  house  to  house.  No  door  can  keep  them  out. 
They  dry  up  the  milk  in  the  breast.  Theirs  is  the  voice 
of  slander  ruthlessly  destroying  the  peace  of  man  at  home 
and  abroad.  Intruding  even  into  high  heaven,  they  are 
deaf  to  prayers  and  supplications.  They  are  the  adver- 
saries of  the  Lord  upon  the  earth ;  they  labour  to  destroy 
the  gods.     They  are  emphatically  the  enemies.^ 

The  dark  world  of  demons  has  its  own  hierarchy.  At 
its  head  are  the  seven  evil  spirits  whose  dwelling  is 
in  the  ocean  depths.  Under  these  terrible  leaders,  the 
demon  army  spreads  far  and  wide,  and  assumes  all  possible 
forms,  from  plagues  and  pestilences  to  phantoms  and  awful 
visions  of  the  night. 

Their  accursed  power  is  very  vividly  described  in  the 
following  fragment  from  "Chaldean  Magic." 

"  They  are  seven  !  they  are  seven  ! 
in  the  depths  of  the  ocean,  they  are  seven  ! 
in  the  brilhancy  of  the  heavens,  they  are  seven  ! 
They  proceed  from  the  ocean  depth,  from  the  hidden  retreat. 
They  are  neither  male  nor  female, 
those  which  stretch  themselves  out  like  chains. 
They  have  no  spouse,  they  do  not  produce  children  ; 
they  are  strangers  to  benevolence ; 

*  Lenormant,  "Chaldean  Magic. 

*  Ibid.,  chap.  i. 

'  Ibid.  *  Ibid. 


34     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

they  listen  neither  to  prayers  nor  wishes. 

Vermin  come  forth  from  the  mountain,  enemies  of  the  god  Hea, 

they  are  the  agents  of  the  vengeance  of  the  gods, 

raising  up  difficulties,  obtaining  power  by  violence. 

The  enemies  !  the  enemies  ! 

they  are  seven  !  they  are  seven !  they  are  twice  seven  1 

Spirit  of  the  heavens  may  they  be  conjured  ! 

Spirit  of  the  earth  may  they  be  conjured  !  "  ' 

The  demons  are  sometimes  localised.  There  is  one 
demon  for  the  head,  one  for  the  hair,  one  for  each  member 
of  the  body.  These  destructive  powers  must  be  withstood 
by  every  possible  means.  The  first  is  the  invocation  of 
the  beneficent  gods,  who  are  sometimes  addressed  together 
as  in  the  formula  "  Spirit  of  the  heavens,  conjure  it ! 
Spirit  of  the  earth,  conjure  it ! "  ^  This  prayer  for 
deliverance  is  a  form  of  exorcism,  a  sacred  formula, 
the  efficacy  of  which  is  in  proportion  to  the  great- 
ness of  the  name  invoked.  This  importance  attached 
to  certain  mystic  words  is  a  necessary  consequence  of 
animism.  In  this  stage  of  his  development,  man  sees  a 
spirit  in  everything,  and  applies  this  simple  belief  to 
words.  He  supposes  the  word  to  enshrine  the  presence 
of  a  mysterious  power.  This  power  is  from  the  gods,  and 
is  transfused  into  the  sacred  formula,  peculiar  efficacy 
being  attached  to  the  names  of  the  higher  deities.  Hence 
every  formula  carrying  with  it  an  element  of  the  Divine, 
has  virtue  to  protect  from  evil.  The  converse  is  equally 
certain. 

"A  malicious  imprecation  acts  upon  man  like  a  wicked  demon, 
the  voice  which  curses  has  power  over  him, 
the  malicious  imprecation  is  the  spell  (which  produces)  the  disease 

of  his  head 
The  malicious  imprecation  slaughters  this  man  like  a  lamb ; 
his  god  oppresses  him  in  his  body: 

his  goddess  creates  anguish  in  him  by  a  reciprocal  influence; 
the  voice  which  curses,  covers  and  loads  him  like  a  veil."  * 

Hence  the  necessity  of  a  countercharm  to  be  worked 
by  holy  words : 

"  The  evil  fate,  by  the  command  from  the  lips  of  Hea, 
may  it  be  destroyed  like  a  plant, 

1  "Chaldean  Magic,"  p.  i8. 

«  Ibid.,  p.  3.  '  Ibid.,  p.  64. 


CHALDEO-A  SS YRIAN  RELIGION:  35 

may  it  be  divided  into  pieces  like  a  fruit ! 
may  it  be  torn  and  plucked  up  like  a  twig  ! 
The  evil  fate,  Spirit  of  the  heavens,  conjure  it! 
Spirit  of  the  earth,  conjure  it  I " ' 

Next  to  holy  words,  the  best  way  of  loosing  the  spell 
of  the  curse  is  to  drive  the  cruel  demon,  the  evil  spirit, 
into  some  plastic  representation  of  itself.  Animism  im- 
plies that  it  actually  comes  out  of  the  man  and  goes  into 
this  other  form.  Hence,  in  order  to  exorcise  the  terrible 
demon  of  the  plague  "  which  has  no  hand,  no  foot,  yet 
comes  on  man  like  a  snare,  which  burns  the  country  like 
fire,  spreads  over  the  plain  like  a  chain  ;  like  an  enemy 
takes  man  captive ;  burns  man  like  a  flame ;  binds  the 
invalid  like  a  bundle  " ;  a  symbolic  image  of  it  must  be 
fashioned  and  applied  to  the  living  flcsh  of  the  sick  man.^ 
In  order  to  complete  the  cure,  it  is  well  to  reproduce  also 
the  image  of  the  good  gods  and  to  place  it  in  front  of  the 
house.  This  is  the  explanation  of  the  "  great  winged 
bulls  "  which  flanked  the  entrance  gates  of  the  palaces  at 
Nineveh,  and  were  looked  upon  as  genii  keeping  watch 
and  ward. 

The  talisman,  a  sort  of  sacred  object  which  is  also 
endued  with  divine  virtue,  plays  an  important  part  in  the 
exorcism  of  demons.  It  is  only  necessary  to  place  long 
bands  of  white  or  black  stuff  upon  the  head,  or  hand, 
or  foot,  or  whatever  part  is  affected,  in  order  to  expel  the 
demon,  phantom,  spectre,  vampire,  and  to  break  the  spell, 
for  in  this  way  the  divine  power  is  brought  face  to  face 
with  the  power  of  evil.^  The  talisman,  the  forms  of  which 
are  very  various,  is  an  impassable  barrier  placed  between 
the  god  and  the  demons.  It  is  like  a  snare  in  which  the 
evil  one  is  taken.  "  He  who  crosses  the  boundary  (of 
property)  the  talisman  of  the  gods,  boundary  of  heaven 
and  earth,  will  never  let  him  go  again."  ^  These  elaborate 
rites  of  exorcism  needed  many  to  take  part  in  them. 
According  to  the  book  of  magic,  the  exorcists  were  ranged 
in  three  categories — conjurors,  physiiians,  and  the  theo- 

'   "Chaldean  Magic,"  p.  65. 

*  Ibid.,  pp.  50,  51. 

*  Ibid.,  pp.  44,  45.  ■•  Ibid. 


36     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

sophists  or  priests.  For  a  long  time  the  practice  of  magic 
was  an  important  function  of  the  Chaldean  priests. 

So  far  we  have  only  adverted  to  the  animistic  elements 
of  the  ancient  religion  of  Chaldea.  The  higher  elements 
were  not  wanting  and  these  were  developed  by  a  true 
mythological  evolution.  The  country,  though  not  excep- 
tionally favoured  like  some  other  regions,  had  its  beauty 
and  grandeur.  The  soil  rewarded  in  the  end-  the  pains 
bestowed  upon  it ;  and  it  helped  to  stimulate  the  activity 
of  its  inhabitants  by  the  heavy  demands  it  made  upon 
their  patience.  The  fruitfulness  of  the  earth,  and  still 
more  the  sublimity  of  the  starry  heavens  rarely  veiled  by 
clouds,  spoke  to  them  of  a  propitious  deity.  Heaven, 
earth,  and  even  the  depths  beneath  (which  belonged  only 
in  part  to  the  powers  of  evil),  were  ail  in  turn  deified  by 
the  Chaldeans. 

The  image  under  which  the  universe  appeared  to  them 
was  that  of  a  round  skiff  turned  over.  The  earth  formed 
its  upper  convex  surface.  The  concavity  beneath  is  the 
terrestrial  abyss,  the  abode  of  spirits  and  of  the  dead. 
Above  the  earth  extends  the  sky  with  its  constellations  of 
fixed  stars ;  above  again  are  the  planets  "revolving  round 
the  mountains  of  the  East ;  the  column  which  joined  the 
heavens  and  the  earth  and  served  as  an  axis  to  the  celes- 
tial vault."  ^  Between  earth  and  heaven  is  the  zone  of 
winds  and  storms.  Each  of  these  zones  has  its  god. 
Anna  dwells  in  the  highest  heaven  ;  Hea  upon  earth  ; 
Mnlge,  in  the  lower  deep.  Hea  represents  especially  the 
humid  element  which  surrounds  and  fertilises  the  earth  ; 
hence  it  appears  under  the  form  of  a  fish.  This  is  the 
Cannes  of  Berosus.  By  the  elementary  anthropomorphism 
which  characterises  every  stage  of  religious  development, 
each  male  god  has  his  wife,  a  sort  of  feminine  hypostasis 
of  his  attributes.  The  wife  of  Hea  is  Damkina;  Ningelal 
is  the  feminine  form  of  Mulge,  the  analogue  of  the  Assyrian 
goddess  Belit.  The  personality  of  these  goddesses  is  left 
altogether  undefined  and  vague.  They  are  not  so  much 
persons  at  all,  as  cosmical  powers  deified  in  their  benefi- 
cent attributes.  The  god  of  the  highest  heaven  remains 
wrapped    in    impenetrable    shadow.     It    is    impossible   to 

'   "Chaldean  Magic,"  pp.  151,  152. 


CHALDEO-ASSYRIAN  RELIGION.  37 

form  any  distinct  idea  of  him.  After  these  more  or  less 
abstract  divinities,  the  sun  and  moon  are  the  objects  of 
worship.  In  Uke  manner,  the  winds  and  waves  are  in- 
voked, because,  Hke  the  prow  of  the  vessel,  they  force 
their  way  in  the  teeth  of  opposing  fate.  Fire  occupies  a 
place  of  high  honour  in  this  rude  religion.  It  is  invoked 
as  the  great  agent  in  dissipating  spells,  the  hero  who  puts 
the  demons  to  flight.  He  (or  rather  it),  is  frequently 
called  Bilgt,  which  must  be  translated  as  "  the  fire  of  the 
rushes,"  the  fire  issuing  from  an  instrument  analogous  to 
the  arani  of  the  primitive  Aryas,  which  was  made  out  of  a 
ligneous  reed.     A  hymn  says  : 

"  Fire,  supreme  chief  rising  high  in  the  countrj' ! 
Hero,  son  of  the  Ocean  rising  high  in  tlic  country  ! 
Fire,  with  thy  pure  and  brilliant  flame, 
Thou  bringest  light  into  the  dwellings  of  darkness, 
Thou  decidest  the  fate  of  everything  which  has  a  name." ' 

These  gods,  so  dimly  personified,  fight  against  the 
demons  which  are  led  by  the  seven  spirits  of  the  deep. 
This  contest  no  doubt  represents  the  great  battle  between 
light  and  darkness,  which  we  find  in  all  Oriental  religions. 
In  character  it  is  rather  cosmical  than  moral.  It  is  less 
prominent  in  the  Chaldean  than  in  later  religions. 
Anthropomorphism  is  as  yet  too  shadowy  to  lend  much 
colour  to  the  contest  between  the  gods  and  the  demons. 
In  truth  it  is  not  so  much  the  active  succour,  the  posi- 
tive intervention  of  the  gods  which  their  worshippers 
desire,  as  some  magic  arts  by  which  to  break  the  spells 
of  the  demons.  The  great  secret  of  deliverance  and 
victory  is  the  power  to  pronounce  the  ineffable  name  of 
the  god,  which  no  man  can  hear.  The  god  of  the  earth 
is  alone  able  to  obtain  this  revelation  and  impart  this 
benefit.  "  The  highest,  the  most  irresistible  of  all  the 
powers  dwells  in  the  divine  and  mysterious  name,  '  the 
supreme  name'  with  which  Hea  is  acquainted.  Before 
this  name  everything  bows  in  heaven  and  in  earth  and  in 
Hades.  The  gods  themselves  are  enthralled  by  this  name, 
and  render  it  obedience."  ^  Here  we  trace  that  vague 
monotheistic  intuition  which  is  indeed  a  universal  element 


'  "Chaldean  Magic,"  pp.  184,  185. 

2  Tu;,i      „     i^ 


^  Ibid.,  p.  4: 


38     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

of  religion,  but  is  at  first  too  slight  to  leave  its  impress 
upon  it. 

The  overwhelming  sense  of  the  impassable  barrier  which 
separates  man  from  the  mightiest  of  the  gods,  prompts 
the  desire  to  find  a  mediator  nearer  to  himself  than  Hea. 
We  have  already  seen  sun,  moon,  and  fire  invoked  in  this 
capacity.  A  god,  whose  nature  it  is  somewhat  difficult 
to  understand — Silik-mulu-khi — that  is  "  he  who  distri- 
butes good  amongst  men,"  seems  to  have  assumed  this 
benevolent  office.  On  the  one  hand  he  receives  by 
revelation  from  Hea  the  secret  which  has  power  to  ensure 
the  defeat  of  the  demons ;  on  the  other  hand  he  carries 
to  Hea  the  appeal  of  men  tormented  by  malignant  spirits 
and  diseases.  He  is  called  the  "  hero  amongst  the  gods, 
the  eldest  son  of  Hea,  the  merciful  one,  the  generator  who 
brings  back  the  dead  to  life."  "  He  commands  the  sea 
and  it  becomes  calm."  He  commands  the  girdle  of  the 
river  of  Sippara  (the  Euphrates)  and  overturns  its  course.^ 
This  he  does  as  a  personification  of  the  wind ;  but 
he  was  far  the  most  human  of  all  the  Accadian  gods. 
He  is  a  sort  of  anticipation  of  the  Persian  Mithra — the 
deliverer. 

After  Anna  and  Hea,  we  have  named  among  the  gods 
Mulge,  the  god  of  the  lower  abyss,  where  warrior  gods 
under  his  direction  combat  demons,  monsters  and  plagues. 
Mulge  himself  is  at  once  a  terrible  and  a  glorious  god. 
He  is  the  lord  of  "  the  country  whence  none  return,  the 
home  which  one  may  enter  but  none  can  leave,  the  road 
from  which  there  is  no  return,  the  dwelling  where  those 
entering  find  blindness  instead  of  light ;  where  the  multi- 
tude has  nothing  but  dust  to  appease  its  hunger,  nothing 
but  mud  for  food,  where  they  see  no  light  and  dwell  in 
darkness,  where  shades,  as  birds,  press  towards  the  vault, 
where  dust  thickens  upon  the  door  and  its  wings."  '^ 

Nevertheless  a  hymn  addressed  to  Silik-mulu-khi,  the 
god  mediator,  attributes  to  him  the  power  of  bringing  back 
the  dead  to  life.  Another  prayer  asks  him  to  strengthem 
the  hands  of  the  dwellers  in  the  realm  of  shades.  Lastly, 
in  one  hymn  a  goddess  of  the  night  is  represented  as  pro- 

*"  Chaldean  Magic,"  pp.  192,  193, 
*  Ibid.,  p.  165. 


CHALDEO-ASSYRIAN  RELIGION.  39 

nouncing  judgment.  Here  we  have  a  vague  intimation  of 
retribution,  which  becomes  more  distinct  in  later  times. 

Prayer  occupies  the  foremost  place  in  this  worship. 
Sacrifice  is  also  mentioned,  but  there  is  nothing  moral 
or  elevated  about  it.  It  presents  food  to  the  gods,  who 
pounce  upon  the  offering  "  like  flies  upon  meat."  No  doubt 
these  are  the  inferior  gods.  There  is  nothing  more 
meritorious  than  to  pour  out  the  blood  of  victims  like 
water.  The  idea  that  it  is  doing  honour  to  the  gods  to 
resemble  them,  applied  to  the  divinities  which  produce 
life,  led  in  the  end  to  the  rites  of  sacred  prostitution 
practised  at  Babylon  ;  but  its  influence  was  felt  in  a  much 
earlier  stage,  for  we  find  from  very  ancient  texts,  that  it 
was  regarded  as  the  greatest  misfortune  for  a  female 
slave  not  to  have  attracted  the  attention  of  her  master.^ 

Such,  as  we  gather,  was  the  Chaldean  or  Accadian 
religion  in  its  primitive  form. 

It  is  impossible  to  determine  exactly  when  it  was  that 
it  assumed  a  wider  range  under  the  dominant  influence 
of  the  Cushite  tribes,  branches  of  the  great  Semitic  race, 
which  became  blended  with  the  early  inhabitants  of  the 
country,  and  rapidly  swarmed  first  over  Babylon  and 
then  over  Assyria.  It  is  certain  that  no  fundamental 
change  was  made  in  the  religion  through  this  influx  of 
strangers ;  but  Chaldea  passed  through  a  period  of  sub- 
division during  which  the  same  gods  took  different  names 
in  each  of  the  towns  which  served  as  centres  to  these 
petty  kingdoms  or  principalities.  When  the  Chaldeo- 
Babylonian  Empire  was  founded,  it  had  to  find  a  place 
in  its  pantheon  for  all  these  gods  who  were  worshipped 
under  so  many  separate  names.  Thus  the  mythological 
circle  was  widened. 

Two  other  causes  beside  political  unification  combined 
to  give  it  its  final  character.  First  of  all,  the  priesthood 
had  acquired  great  importance,  as  the  caste  of  the 
Brahmans  subsequently  did  in  India.  Just  as  the 
Brahmans  turned  to  their  own  account  the  religion  of 
the  Vedas,  so  the  Chaldean  magicians  made  the  primitive 
worship  of  the  country  minister  to  their  authority.  In 
the  second  place,  a  very  marked  feature  of  this  period  is 

'  "  Chaldean  Magic,"  p.  385. 


40     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

the  importance  attached  to  the  observation  of  the  stars, 
which  was  soon  raised  from  mere  astrological  super- 
stition to  the  science  of  astronomy.  The  habit  of  reading 
man's  destiny  in  the  heavens  and  deciphering  its  secrets 
in  the  movements  of  the  planets,  was  a  great  advance 
on  the  sorceries  of  the  earlier  priesthood.  The  sidereal 
aspect  began  to  predominate  also  in  the  conception  of 
the  gods.  This  did  not  tend  to  make  them  more  human. 
Indeed  it  must  be  admitted  that  anthropomorphism  re- 
ceived a  check. 

We  give  now  a  brief  summary  of  the  mythological 
system  of  the  Chaldeo-Babylonian  religion,  grafted  upon 
the  original  element  of  naturism,  as  we  gather  it  from 
the  cuneiform  inscriptions.  The  fundamental  idea  of 
this  system  is  really  that  of  divine  unity  in  the  pan- 
theistic sense.  The  hidden  god  who  comprehends  all 
things  in  himself,  manifests  himself  through  the  diversity 
of  phenomena.  The  secondary  gods  who  form  a  gra- 
duated scale  below  him,  are  but  personifications  of  his 
attributes.  They  are  primarily,  as  we  have  said,  plane- 
tary gods.  The  god  par  excellence  is  Ilu.  Babylon  is 
his  city,  the  city  of  Ilu.  Next  to  this  supreme  god  we 
have  the  first  triad  produced  by  emanation.  It  consists 
of  the  three  following  gods  : — 

Anil,  the  primordial  chaos ; 

Bel,  the  demiurgus  ; 

Ntiah,  the  saviour,  the  intelligent  guide. 

To  these  three  male  gods  correspond  three  feminine 
divinities  : — 

Anata  ; 

Belit; 

Davkina. 

The  second  triad  is  composed  thus  : — '• 

Sin,  the  moon  god  ; 

Sanias,  the  sun  god ; 

Bin,  the  god  of  the  atmosphere.^ 

Then  come  the  planetary  gods  : — 

Ninip,  Saturn  ; 

Mardiik,  Jupiter ; 

'  The  name  of  this  god  is  disputed ;  it  has  been  maintained  that  hia 
name  was  Ramamt,  the  Thunderer. 


CHALDEO-ASSYRIAN  RELIGION.  41 

Nergal,  Mars : 

Istar,  Venus ; 

Nebo,  Mercury. 

The  twelve  great  gods  preside  over  the  twelve  months 
of  the  year.  Below  them  are  a  multitude  of  inferior  gods, 
angels,  genii,  and  the  whole  troop  of  demons,  who  per- 
petuate the  ancient  sorcery  and  incantations. 

In  reality,  we  find  in  this  new  mythological  cycle  the 
same  religious  idea  as  among  the  early  Chaldeans,  with 
the  addition  of  the  sidereal  element.  We  have  the  same 
supreme  deity  wrapped  in  mystery,  only  he  is  called  Ilii 
instead  of  Anna.  The  first  triad  gives  us  the  three  gods 
corresponding  to  the  three  regions  of  the  universe. 
Mardtik  now  takes  the  place  of  Silik-Mulu-klii,  the  god- 
mediator. 

The  feminine  element  however  occupies  a  larger 
place  in  the  new  pantheon.  Anata,  Bclit,  and  above 
all  Istar,  represent  it  in  its  fertility  and  voluptuousness. 
This  explains  why  prostitution  was  made  obligatory 
upon  every  woman  as  a  rite  in  the  temple  of  Babylon. 
In  the  legend  of  Istar  we  have  a  rough  outline  of  the 
myth  of  Adonis.  She  also  loses  her  husband  and  goes 
in  search  of  him  in  the  realms  of  the  dead.  This  is  the 
image  of  nature,  coming  forth  after  the  sterility  and  death 
of  winter,  to  seek  again  her  brilliant  progeny.^ 

§  III. — The  Assyrian  Religion. 

Assyria,  when  it  absorbed  Babylonia  and  founded  its 
vast  empire,  changed  nothing  but  a  name  in  the  Chaldean 
pantheon.  It  raised  its  god  Assur  to  the  dignity  of  the 
supreme  god,  but  without  making  any  essential  modi- 
fication   in    the   character   of    that   deity.     It    gave    him 

'  The  recent  excavations  of  M.  de  Sarzec  at  Tello,  have  given  us  a 
glimpse  of  the  degree  of  development  at  which  the  small  principalities 
of  the  country  of  the  Sumirs  had  arrived  before  the  formation  of  the 
great  monarchies.  M.  Ledrain,  Professor  of  Assyrian  epigraphy  in  the 
school  of  the  Louvre,  gives  a  very  interesting  review  of  the  social  and 
moral  status  of  this  tiny  kingdom.  According  to  a  cj'linder  discovered 
by  an  Englishman  in  Mesopotamia  (a  cylinder  dating  from  the  sixth 
century  before  our  era),  the  reigns  of  Sargon  I.  and  of  Naramsin  ought 
to  be  placed  as  far  back  as  the  year  3750  before  our  era.  Now  on  com- 
paring the  archaic  inscription  on  a  vase  of  Naramsin  with  that  cf  a 


42     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

moreover  a  brilliant  impersonation  upon  earth  in  its 
conquering  king.  Iiere  history  comes  in  as  an  impor- 
tant factor  in  the  rel  ^ious  development. 

We  shall  not  dv  ell  upon  the  mythical  part  of  this 
history,  which  will  concern  us  only  in  relation  to  its 
influence  upon  religion.  We  have  seen  Chaldea  divided 
into  various  small  kingdoms.  Their  chief  cities  were 
Uz,  Nipur,  with  its  gigantic  temple,  Sippara,  Borsippa, 
Larsa,  and  lastly  Babylon,  destined  long  to  maintain 
an  independent  dynasty.  The  country,  after  having 
been  conquered  by  the  Elamites  2300  e.g.,  and  ruled 
over  by  a  Median  dynasty,  finally  became  part  of  the 
dominion  of  Assyria.  The  Assyrians  extended  their 
conquests  far  and  vide.  They  built  splendid  cities  like 
Nineveh,  Calah,  Ellasar.  After  their  king,  Tuklat-abal- 
asar,  had  conquered  Babylon  (iioo  B.C.)  the  Assyrian 
empire  entered  upon  a  prolonged  period  of  wars  and 
conquests.  Under  such  kings  as  Assur-nazir-pal  and 
Shalmaneser  III.,  its  victorious  armies  spread  over  a 
large  part  of  Western  Asia,  from  the  Persian  Gulf  to 
Elam  and  the  Red  Sea.  They  occupied  both  Media  and 
Armenia.  After  m.iny  vicissitudes  of  fortune,  Assyria 
entered  again  in  the  seventh  and  eighth  centuries  b.c. 
upon  a  period  of  conquest  and  glory  under  the  dynasty 
of  the  Sargons.  At  this  time  it  took  possession  of  Egypt. 
The  period  of  decline  commences  with  the  elevation  of 
the  Medes  under  Cyaxares,  In  alliance  with  the  kings 
of  Babylon,  who  were  always  ripe  for  revolt,  the  Medes 
dealt  a  mortal  blow  at  the  Assyrian  colossus.  The  ruin 
of  Nineveh  in  606  produced  an  immense  effect.  Finally, 
after  many  reverses,  old  Chaldea  under  Nebuchadnezzar 
once  more  regained  the  sceptre  of  the  Asiatic  world,  and 

vase  in  the  Sarzec  collection  in  the  Louvre,  especially  as  to  the  desig- 
nation of  the  word  king,  wo  find  that  the  vase  brought  from  Tello  is  of 
earlier  date  than  that  of  Naramsin.  We  are  thus  carried  back  to  more 
than  four  thousand  years  before  Christ,  as  the  date  of  the  little  kingdom 
of  Tello.  Judging  from  the  inscription  in  the  Sarzec  collection,  it  must 
have  reached  a  fairly  advanced  degree  of  civilisation.  Architecture  is 
shown  to  have  been  in  a  high  state  of  development,  by  the  style  of  the 
temples,  especially  those  built  in  the  reign  of  king  Gudea.  The  religion 
is  obviously  just  what  it  was  throughout  this  whole  region,  before  the 
foundation  of  the  great  monarchies.  (See  "  Revue  politique  et  litteraire," 
January  I2th,  1883.) 


CHALDEO- ASSYRIAN  RELIGIONS  43 

held  it  until  the  time  when,  under  the  leadership  of  Cyrus, 
Persia  appeared  upon  the  scene  and  a  new  period  of 
history  began. 

These  great  wars  of  the  Assyrian  conquerors  have  left 
few  traces  except  upon  the  monuments  in  their  capital 
cities.  From  these  monuments  we  get  some  idea  of  this 
proud  and  cruel  race  of  kings,  who  delighted  to  immor- 
talise through  the  sculptor's  chisel,  not  only  the  pomp  of 
their  victories  but  the  agonies  of  their  victims  on  the 
battle  and  on  the  hunting  field.  These  terrible  kings 
pass  before  us  in  the  obscurity  of  the  dim  past,  like 
comets  scattering  death  and  dismay  in  their  train.  The 
work  of  destruction  only  ceases  in  one  place  to  begin 
in  another.  There  are  always  fresh  realms  to  conquer, 
new  revolts  to  quell.  It  is  a  deluge  of  blood  which 
sweeps  all  before  it,  and  leaves  behind  only  a  barren 
tract  of  desolation.  That  which  stands  out  in  strong 
relief  upon  this  lurid  background,  is  the  image  of  the 
king,  the  representative  of  the  gods  and  worshipped  as 
their  equal.  It  is  extraordinary  how  these  kings  exalt 
themselves  in  the  inscriptions  which  record  their  exploits. 
Never  did  human  pride  use  more  daring  language  or 
more  audaciously  claim  equality  with  God.  In  a  genuine 
inscription  Tuklat-abal-asar  thus  expresses  himself:  "  I 
filled  the  mountain  defiles  with  the  corpses  of  my 
enemies.  I  cut  off  their  heads.  I  overthrew  the  walls 
of  their  cities.  I  took  slaves,  booty,  treasures  without 
number.  Six  thousand  of  them  embraced  my  knees  and 
I  made  them  prisoners.  I  swept  like  a  tempest  over  the 
bodies  of  the  fighting  men  in  the  mountain  passes,  for  I 
am  the  mighty  king,  the  destroyer  of  the  wicked,  he  who 
slays  the  hosts  of  the  opposers."  ^ 

Another  inscription  runs  thus : — "  The  god  Assur  my 
lord,  commanded  me  to  march.  I  disposed  my  chariot 
and  my  armies.  I  cut  to  pieces  my  enemies  and  pursued 
them  as  wild  beasts.  I  carried  off  their  gods  ;  I  gave 
their  cities  to  the  flames ;  I  made  them  heaps  of  ruins. 
I  laid  upon  them  the  heavy  yoke  of  my  dominion,  and 
in  their  presence  I  gave  thanks  to  god  Assur,  my  lord.^" 

^  Maspero,  "  Histoire  ancienne  des  peuples  de  rOrient,"  p.  296. 
»  Ibid.,  p.  437. 


44     I'HE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

In  another  inscription  relating  to  the  conquest  of  Elam, 
the  Assyrian  king  boasts  of  having  entered  by  the  will 
of  Assur  and  Istar  into  the  city  of  Susa,  and  proudly 
reposed  in  its  palaces.  "  I  took  away  all  their  gods,"  he 
says,  "  and  all  their  goddesses,  their  gorgeous  apparel, 
their  treasures,  their  priests.  I  carried  all  away  to  the 
land  of  Assur.  I  broke  the  winged  lions  and  the  bulls 
which  kept  guard  over  the  temple.  The  high  places  of 
their  kings  who  had  not  feared  Assur  and  Istar,  I  burned 
under  the  sun." 

The  king  in  using  this  language  was  the  true  repre- 
sentative of  his  people,  who  were  intoxicated  with  his 
triumphs  and  gorged  with  booty  taken  from  the  enemy. 
The  splendid  palaces  raised  in  the  king's  honour  were 
the  temples  of  this  proud  race  of  monarchs,  of  whom  the 
god  Assur  was  the  august  type.  This  worship  of  the 
conquering  kings  became  a  religion,  symbolising  the 
victorious  strife  of  the  national  gods  with  the  powers 
of  evil.  We  thus  get  an  important  addition  to  the  placid 
sidereal  pantheon  of  the  Chaldeans,  though  the  new 
element  is  only  a  superstructure  upon  the  old  basis  of 
naturalism. 

The  moral  development  of  a  nation  has  not  been  fully 
described  when  its  official  religion  has  been  characterised 
in  its  various  phases.  The  soul  of  man  always  cherishes 
aspirations  higher  that  its  national  worship,  so  long  at 
least  as  this  is  in  an  early  stage.  Hence  we  find  these 
ancient  nations  constantly  getting  beyond  their  own 
worship,  expanding  and  purifying  it,  and  projecting  upon 
their  gods  some  of  the  inner  light  which  has  its  source 
deep  in  their  own  being.  Thus  by  flashes  they  discerned 
a  king  higher  than  him  whom  they  worshipped,  and  their 
various  gods  would  be  for  a  moment  transfigured,  but 
only  to  fall  back  again  into  the  darkness.  The  cry  of 
conscience  went  up  nevertheless  to  the  true  God  whom 
it  was  feeling  and  seeking  after,  through  all  those  lower 
impersonations  of  the  Divine  which  might  seem  to  satisfy 
the  soul  in  the  ordinary  course  of  life.  The  great  inward 
prophecy  has  never  been  without  an  oracle.  Of  this  we 
have  abundant  proof  in  the  Chaldeo-Assyrian  religion. 

In  the  first  place,  we  find  moral  qualities  attributed  to 


CHALDEO-ASSYRIAN  RELIGION.  45 

the  gods  which  do  not  belong  to  their  official  character. 
The  highest  intuitions  of  the  Divine  in  the  heart  of  man 
are  embodied  in  their  changing  forms.  Thus  after  fire 
has  been  represented  as  the  "  pure  and  brilUant  flame 
which  brings  Hght  into  the  dwelling  of  darkness,"  as 
the  force  which  "  mixes  copper  and  steel  and  purifies  gold 
and  silver,"  it  is  abruptly  spoken  of  as  "  striking  terror 
into  the  heart  of  the  wicked."  "  May  the  works  of  the  man, 
son  of  his  god,  shine  with  purity !  May  he  be  high  as 
heaven  !  May  he  be  pure  and  holy  as  the  earth  !  May 
he  shine  as  the  midst  of  heaven  !  "  So  we  read  in  a 
mutilated  fragment.^ 

In  another  hymn  the  moon-god  assumes  the  same  moral 
aspect.  It  is  no  longer  regarded  as  a  mere  force  of  nature, 
but  acts  as  a  god  living  and  abiding.  When  the  seven  evil 
spirits  of  the  abyss  have  raised  tempests  and  gales  of  wind, 
when  they  have  darkened  the  face  of  the  lord  of  heaven, 
who  looks  forth  in  anguish  through  the  shrouded  sky, 
when  they  themselves  have  burst  upon  the  earth  like  a 
torrent,  the  moon-god  fights  against  them  victoriously 
till  "  the  king,  son  of  his  god,  like  the  light  of  Aku  (the 
god  of  the  moon)  causes  the  country  to  live  again ;  like 
the  brilliancy  of  the  flame  he  raises  his  head."  ^ 

The  humanity  of  the  sun-god  is  more  emphasised  than 
that  of  the  moon-god.  He  shines  in  the  highest  region 
of  the  heavens,  dissipating  the  darkness,  and  is  one  of  the 
most  active  protecting  gods,  a  great  enemy  of  demons  and 
sorcerers.  The  hymn  addressed  to  him  runs  thus  : 
"  O  thou  who  causest  lies  to  disappear,  thou  who 
dissipatest  the  bad  influence  of  wonders,  of  auguries,  of 
evil  prognostications,  of  dreams,  of  wicked  apparitions, 
thou  who  defeatest  wicked  plots.  ...  do  not  allow  those 
who  cast  spells  and  are  hardened  to  rise.  .  .  .  May  the 
great  gods  who  have  created  me,  take  my  hand  !  Thou, 
who  curest  my  face,  direct  my  hand,  direct  it,  lord,  light  of 
the  universe,  sun."  ^ 

What  a  sublime  vision  the  unknown  poet  of  old  Chaldea 
must  have  had  of  his   god,  when    he    saw   him  radiant 


'  "Chaldean  Magic,"  p.  185. 
■  Ibid.,  pp.  204,  209. 


»  Ibid.,  pp.  178-9. 


46     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

through  the  portals  of  heaven,  the  archangels  bowing 
low  before  him,  while  the  earth  beheld  him  with  rapture. 
From  the  height  of  heaven  he  rules  the  children  of  men, 
shedding  down  upon  them  a  ray  of  peace,  and  healing  their 
sufferings.^ 

The  divine  sun  brings  deliverance  from  sufferings  more 
intense  than  those  which  assail  the  body.  One  of  the 
hymns  in  which  he  is  addressed  closes  with  these  words, 
in  which  we  notice  the  confusion  of  moral  with  material 
ideas  so  characteristic  of  the  Chaldean  religion.  The 
priest  is  invoking  help  for  a  sufferer : 

"The   man,  son  of  his    god,    is  burdened  with  the   load   of  his 

omissions  and  transgressions. 
His  feet  and  his  hands  suffer  cruelly ;  he  is  painfully  exhausted 

by  the  disease. 
Sun,  at  the  raising  of  my  hands,  come  at  the  call,  eat  his  food, 

absorb  his  victim,  turn  his  weakness  into  strength. 
By  thy  order  may  his  omissions  be  forgiven  !  may  his  transgressions 

be  blotted  out ! 
Break  his  chains  !  may  he  recover  from  his  illness  !  "  ^ 

In  spite  of  confusion  and  error  there  is  however  much 
beauty  in  these  hymns  of  adoration.  Sometimes  prayer 
assumes  the  form  of  a  dialogue  between  the  man  and  his 
god,  as  in  this  invocation  addressed  to  Silik-mulu-khi,  the 
god-mediator. 

The  worshipper. 
"  Who  can  escape  thy  hail  ? 
Thy  will  is  the  sublime  scimitar  with  which  thou  rulest  heaven 
and  earth." 

The  god. 
"  I  commanded  the  sea,  and  the  sea  became  calm. 
I  commanded  the  flower,  and  the  flower  ripened  its  grain. 
I  commanded  the  girdle  of  the  river  of  Sippara,  and  I  overturned 
its  course." 

The  worshipper. 
"  Lord,  thou  art  sublime,  what  transitorj'  being  is  equal  to  thee? 
Silik-mulu-khi  amongst  all  the  gods  who  are  named  thou  art  the 
remunerator."* 

There  is  a  clear  acknowledgment  of  sin  in  the  hymn  we 
have  already  quoted.  It  ultimately  finds  sublime  expression 
in  veritable  psalms  of  penitence.  The  fragments  referring 
to  the  creation  and  the  deluge,  tainted  as  they  are  with 


'  "Chaldean  Magic,"  p.  i8o.  '^  Ibid.,  p.  i8i,  =•  Ibid.,  p.  192. 


CHA  LDEO-A  SS YRIA N  RELIGION.  47 

naturism,  still  bear  traces  of  a  dim  yet  distinct  memory  of 
a  decadence  of  the  human  race,  or  at  least  they  look  upon 
wrong  done  by  man  as  the  cause  of  the  worst  scourges  that 
desolate  the  world.  The  story  of  creation  contains  these 
words  :  "  AH  which  had  been  planned  by  the  great  gods 
was  excellent."  The  deluge  is  distinctly  ascribed  to  the  sins 
of  men  for  whom  the  great  god  Hea  claims  the  pity  of 
Bel  the  god  of  justice.  "  Let  the  sinner  expiate  his 
sins,"  says  Hea  to  Bel,  "the  malefactor  his  crimes,  but  be 
thou  propitious  to  him,  have  pity  on  him  that  he  be  not 
destroyed."  ^ 

The  Chaldean   penitent   is   especially  concerned  about 
his  own  sin,  as  the  following  quotations  show : 

"  Lord,  let  the  fierce  anger  of  thy  heart  be  appeased  ! 

Let  the  god  whom  I  know  not,  be  pacified  towards  me ! 

Let  the  god  who  knows  the  unknown  be  pacified  ! 

Let  the  mother-goddess  who  knows  the  unknown  be  appeased  I 

I  eat  the  bread  of  thine  anger, 

I  drink  the  waters  of  anguish. 

I  feed,  without  knowing  it,  on  transgression  against  my  god. 

I  walk  without  knowing  it,  in  shortcoming  towards  my  mother- 
goddess, 

Lord,  my  faults  are  very  great ! 

Very  great  are  my  sins  ! 

Oh  God,  who  knowest  the  enemy,  very  great  are  my  faults ! 

I  err,  not  knowing  it. 

The  strength  of  the  anger  of  the  Lord  is  kindled  against  me  ! 

I  am  cast  down  and  there  is  none  to  stretch  out  a  hand  to  me. 

I  go  weeping  and  none  takes  me  by  the  hand. 

I  cry  and  there  is  none  to  hear. 

I  am  worn  out  and  languishing  and  there  is  none  to  deliver. 

I  draw  near  to  God  who  shows  mercy,  and  I  pour  forth  bitter 
lamentations.     Lord,  be  favourable  to  me  ! 

How  long,  O  my  god  ? 

How  long,  O  mother-goddess  ? 

How  long,  O  God  who  knowest  the  unknown  ? 

How  long  will  thy  heart  be  full  of  anger  ? 

No  man  knows  whether  he  has  blasphemed  or  done  piously ; 

Lord,  thou  wilt  not  thrust  away  thy  servant  into  the  midst  of 
the  tempestuous  waters,  come  to  his  help. 

Take  his  hand  ! 

I  commit  sin.     Turn  it  into  piety. 

I  make  mistakes ;  let  the  wind  carry  them  away. 

My  blasphemies  are  many, 

Tear  thou  them  in  pieces  like  a  veil ! 

'  Bonnet,  "  Les  decouvertes  Assyriennes,"  p.  96. 


48     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHklSTIANITY. 

O  my  god,  my  sins  are  seven  times  seven — take  away  my  sins. 

Mother  goddess,  forgive  my  sins. 

Let  thy  heart  be  appeased  like  the  heart  of  a  mother  who  has 

born  a  child. 
Thy  child  is  full  of  lamentations  ;  his  heart  is  torn  with  sorrow 
He  mourns  in  silence  like  the  turtle-dove. 
He  has  implored  like  a  child,  the  mercy  of  his  own  god." 

These  lamentations  conclude  with  the  hope  of  deliver- 
ance. 

"  Be  appeased,  I  have  implored  thee. 
If  thou  dost  receive  me  favourably. 

If  thou  dost  grant  thy  protecting  favour  to  man,  he  lives-again. 
Ruler  of  all  things  and  of  all  men,  thou  merciful  deity  who  dost 

restore. 
Thou  dost  receive  our  lamentations."  ' 

We  catch  the  same  accents  of  penitential  sorrow  in  the 
following  fragments : — 

"O  God  my  creator, 
Hold  up  my  arms. 
Guide  the  breath  of  my  mouth, 
Guide  my  hands. 
O  Lord  of  light, 

Lord,  leave  not  thy  servant  to  fall. 
In  the  waters  of  the  roaring  torrent, 
Hold  thou  my  hands. 
Lord,  my  transgressions  are  many, 
Great  are  my  sins. 

The  Lord  in  his  wrath  has  laid  his  wrath  upon  me. 
The  Lord  in  the  severity  of  his  heart  has  laid  his  hand  upon  me. 
Jstar  has  fallen  upon  me,  she  hath  put  me  to  grief. 
.  I  fall  to  the  earth,  and  there  is  none  to  lift  me  up. 
He  who  fears  not  his  god,  shall  be  bowed  down  like  the  reed. 
He  who  does  not  revere  Istar,  his  strength  shall  fail, 
Like  the  star  in  the  heaven,  he  shall  fade  away. 
He  will  be  driven  away  like  the  waves  and  the  clouds," 

Thus  did  the  great  voice  of  conscience  make  itself 
heard  in  a  land  still  devoted  to  naturalistic  worship  and 
in  bondage  to  superstitious  terrors.  It  was  impossible 
that  this  development  of  conscience  should  not  be  accom- 
panied by  at  least  some  vague  intuition  of  retribution  in 
a  future  life. 

The  Chaldean  religion  granted  a  place  of  privilege  in 

'  Lenormant,  "Etudes  Accadiennes,"  vol.  iii.,  3rd  edit.,  pp.  150,  159 
1S3. 


CHA  LDEO-A  S SYRIA N  RELIGION.  49 

the  abode  of  the  dead  to  brave  soldiers.  It  was  in 
Assyria  that  the  conception  of  the  future  life  took  a  new 
development.  The  most  important  document  on  this 
subject  is  the  mythological  narrative  of  the  descent  of 
Istar  into  Hades.' 

The  brave  repose  in  the  abode  of  the  dead,  sur- 
rounded by  their  relations  and  refreshed  with  the  pure 
water  of  life.     It  is  said  to  the  just :  "  Drink  pure  water 

•  in  pure  vessels."  The  goddess  Anata  has  transported 
them  to  a  place  of  holiness  where  flow  honey  and  fatness. 
A  bronze  tablet  recently  discovered  by  M.  Clermont- 
Ganneau,  seems  to  mark  a  new  stage  in  the  idea  of 
retribution  connected  with  the  future  life.  The  lower 
region  is  occupied  by  two  fearful  monsters  which  repre- 
sent avenging  tormentors,  while  above,  upon  the  earth, 
a  dead  man  is  placed  between  two  protecting  gods. 
There  is  therefore  a  recourse  to  the  gods  to  escape  the 
sorrows  of  Hades. 

Strange  to  say  there  is  not  a  trace  of  burial  in  Assyria. 
Chaldea  seems  to  have  been  the  necropolis  of  the  whole 
empire.  The  Chaldean  tomb  is  a  little  vault  built  of 
bricks.  Sometimes  it  is  replaced  by  jars  of  baked  earth 
covered  with  great  mounds.  These  accumulated  graves 
formed  in  the  end  enormous  mounds. 

Chaldeo-Assyrian  art  is  the  faithful  expression  of  a 
religion  of  terror  and  of  that  passion  for  conquest  so 
brilliantly  personified  in  the  kings.  The  buildings  com- 
posing the  royal  palaces  were  of  brick,  and  were  grouped 
upon  a  platform  shaped  like  a  T.     Each  of  the  two  parts 

•  of  this  platform  was  a  rectangle.^ 

They  were  the  temples  of  the  deified  kings.  They 
were  reared  upon  artificial  mounds,  which  served  as 
pedestals.  In  order  to  relieve  the  monotony  of  so  flat  a 
country  as  Chaldea,  staged  towers  were  introduced. 
"  The  whole  structure  terminated  in  a  chapel  placed  on 
the  central  axis  of  the  tower,  and  surmounted  by  a 
cupola.  The  inscriptions  mention  the  dome  covered  with 
leaves  of  chiselled  gold  which  crowned  at  Babylon  that 
temple  '  to  the  foundations  of  the  earth,'  which  was  restored 

*  Pcrrot  et  Chipiez,  "  Chaldean  and  Assyrian  Art,"  p.  13. 


50     THE  ANCIENJ  WORLD  AND  CHRIS2IANITY. 

by  Nebuchadnezzar/  The  use  of  brick  made  the  con- 
struction of  the  dome  easy.  The  decorations  could  not 
be  a  part  of  the  building  itself  as  in  Egypt,  where  stone 
was  chiefiy  used.  In  Chaldeo-Assyrian  art,  the  ornamen- 
tation was  chiefly  in  fresco  with  metal  plaques  and  glazed 
polychromatic  bricks."^ 

All  the  temples  are  built  on  the  same  plan.  "  They 
consist  of  rectangular  prisms  placed  one  upon  the  other, 
and  gradually  diminishing  in  size.  At  a  distance  this 
gives  a  pyramidal  appearance  to  the  mass  of  which  they 
form  a  part,  but  their  walls  are  vertical."  ^ 

In  Assyrian  sculpture  demons  are  represented  by 
figures  of  repulsive  ugliness.  Animal  and  human  forms 
are  constantly  blended.  In  many  colossal  sculptures,  the 
body  and  legs  are  those  of  a  bull,  the  symbol  of  strength  ; 
the  mane  of  a  lion  floats  around  the  figure  of  a  man  with 
eagle's  wings.  We  never  find  one  simple  religious  type. 
Chaldean  art  is  always  characterised  by  a  bizarre  re- 
ligious symbolism.  It  is  otherwise  with  the  sculptures  de- 
signed for  the  palaces.  These  are  uniformly  of  a  narrative 
character.  "The  sculptor  was,  in  a  way,  the  editor  of  the 
military  bulletins,"  says  M.  Perrot ;  "  his  work  was  the 
newspaper  of  the  day,  explaining  the  political  events  of 
his  time  to  those  who  could  understand  no  other  writing."  * 
The  scenes  of  the  chase  and  of  the  battlefield,  and  the 
cruelties  inflicted  by  the  victors  upon  the  captives,  are 
depicted  in  startling  relief.  The  animals  are  better 
rendered  than  the  human  form.  Assyrian  art  is  as  a 
whole  essentially  monotonous,  its  one  idea  being  to  repre- 
sent terror  and  force. 

Such  is  this  religion  which  never  rises  above  its  starting 
point,  and  is  in  its  essence  just  the  animism  of  savage 
nations.  It  is  a  religion  of  terror  leading  to  the  display 
of  fierce  warlike  violence,  and  yet  we  find  running  through 
it  purer  and  higher  ideas — the  prophetic  intuition  of  a 
protecting  deity  of  justice,  who  has  pardon  for  sins  con- 
fessed. It  is  not  however  by  these  brief  flashes  of  the 
light  of  conscience  that  we  can  judge  of  the  moral  develop- 


•  Perrot  et  Chipiez,  "Chaldean  and  Assyrian  Art,"  vol.  i.,  p.  379. 

*  Ibid.,  p.  372.  '  Ibid.,  p.  397.  ■*  Ibid.,  vol.  ii.,  p.  103 


CHALDEO-ASSYRIAN  RELIGION.  51 

ment  of  a  race,  but  by  the  prevailing  tone  of  its  ideas. 
Hence  it  is  certain  that  among  the  Chaldeo-Assyrians, 
religion  never  rose  to  anything  beyond  sidereal  naturism, 
slightly  coloured  by  anthropomorphism,  and  that  they 
always  attached  the  highest  importance  to  the  magic  arts 
designed  to  exorcise  the  demoniacal  power  abroad  in  the 
world. 

The  better  elements  of  this  religion  were  its  acknowledg- 
ment of  its  own  insufficiency,  its  touching  lament  ovei 
the  incapacity  of  its  gods  to  give  light  or  to  satisfy  its 
yearning,  and  lastly  its  plaintive  cry  to  "a  god  whom  it 
knew  not,"  as  says  one  of  its  sacred  songs. 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE  RELIGION  OF  EGYPT. ^ 

IN  tracing  the  religious  evolution  in  Egypt,  we  are 
carried  back  into  an  antiquity  almost  as  remote  as 
that  of  Chaldea.  We  find  here  also  the  same  basis  of 
animism  which  still  exists  among  savage  nations.  Only 
it  is  not  perpetuated  and  systematised  as  in  the  Chaldeo- 
Assyrian  religion,  where  it  had  the  honour  to  survive 
primitive  barbarism  and  to  hold  its  own  in  the  midst  of 
an  advanced  state  of  civilisation.  In  Egypt  it  became 
quickly  transformed  by  a.  new  interpretation  which  con- 
nected it  with  the  national  religion  under  its  ultimate 
form.  It  still  lived  on  however,  almost  unchanged,  in 
popular  superstition. 

Egypt  had  a  very  important  influence  on  the  general 
development  of  religion  in  the  Asiatic  East,  being  constantly 
brought  into  contact  with  it  by  the  rude  shock  of  war, 
in  which  the  peoples  were  brayed  together  as  by  a  pestle 
in  a  mortar, 

Egypt  comprises  the  valley  of  the  Nile  from  the  first 
cataract  to  the  sea.  It  is,  as  Herodotus  justly  describes 
it,  "  the  gift  of  the  Nile."  ^  "  It  forms  a  band  of  vegetation 
athwart  the  desert,  an  elongated  oasis  on  the  banks  of  the 
river  from  which  it  derives  the  moisture  needed  for  vege- 

'  G.  Maspero,   "  Histoire  ancienne  des  peoples  de  I'Orient." 

C.  P.  Tiele,  "  Comparative  History  of  the  Egyptian  and  Mesopotamian 
Religions." 

By  the  same.  "  Outlines  of  the  History  of  Religion  to  the  Spread  of 
the  Universal  Religions." 

F.  Lenormant,   "  Manual  of  the  Ancient  History  of  the  East." 

"  Le  Livre  des  Morts."     Traduction  par  Paul  Pierret. 

Paul  Pierret,   "  Le  pantheon  Egyptien. ' 

Dunker,  "Geschichte  der  Alterthums." 

^  Herodotus,  lib.  ii.,  c.  v. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  EGYPT.  53 

tation.  Its  fertility  depends  entirely  on  the  regular  over- 
flowing of  the  Nile,  which  deposits  a  fertilising  slime  over 
the  parched  lands  of  the  waste  howhng  wilderness."  ^ 
Before  the  rising  of  the  Nile,  at  the  time  when  its  waters 
are  lowest,  shortly  before  the  summer  solstice,  the  country 
presents  the  most  sterile  appearance  possible.  It  looks 
like  a  region  burnt  with  fire.  The  contrast  is  marvellous 
when  the  river  has  spread  its  healing  waters  over  the 
land.  "  All  nature  shouts  for  joy,"  says  a  witness  of  this 
brilliant  and  universal  revival.  "  The  men,  the  children, 
the  buffaloes  gambol  in  its  refreshing  waters ;  the  broad 
waves  sparkle,  shoals  of  fish  and  fowl  of  every  wing 
flutter  over  them  in  clouds.  The  air  is  literally  alive 
with  insects  innumerable."'-*  In  a  word,  above,  beneath, 
around,  it  is  the  sudden  and  complete  triumph  of  life  over 
death. 

It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  this  phenomenon  of  the 
overflow  of  the  Nile  recurs  with  almost  absolute  regularity. 
The  same  regularity  characterises  the  aspect  of  the  heavens. 
The  blue  of  the  sky  is  never  clouded,  the  sun  shines  in 
right  royal  splendour.  Nothing  is  more  rare  in  Egypt 
than  the  coming  up  of  a  sudden  storm.  The  light  is  never 
shrouded  till  evening,  when  the  sun  goes  down  in  the 
purple  west,  in  a  glory  which  is  the  promise  of  recurring 
brightness  on  the  morrow.  No  sharp  snow-peak  rises  to 
break  the  uniformity  of  the  plain,  which  is  bounded  by  the 
desert  and  finally  loses  itself  in  the  sand.  Egypt  presents 
an  aspect  of  calm  immensity,  where  everything  has  a 
character  of  serene  fixedness,  where  the  universal  struggle 
between  the  powers  of  life  and  death  in  nature,  is  carried 
on  as  in  a  well  regulated  drama,  without  sudden  cata- 
strophe. Its  river  and  its  sun  constitute  its  glory  and  its 
fruitfulness.  Hence  it  is  never  weary  of  extolling  them. 
We  shall  find  all  the  mythology  of  Egypt  connected  with 
solar  myths.  "  Hail,  O  Nile,"  we  read  in  one  of  the  most 
ancient  hymns,  "  O  thou  who  dost  manifest  thyself  upon 
this  earth,  and  who  comest  in  peace  to  give  life  to  Egypt, 
Thou  hidden  god,  irrigator  of  the  fruitful  land,  creator 
of   the    sun.      Thou    dost   water   the  whole  earth,    thou 

'  Maspero,  "  Histoire  ancienne  des  peuples  de  I'Orient,"  p.  I. 
*  Osburn,  "The  Monumental  History  of  Egypt,"  vol.  i.,  p.  13. 


54     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

creator  of  the  corn.  When  thou  arisest,  the  earth  is 
filled  with  mirth.  Thou  dost  drink  the  tears  from  all 
eyes,  and  scatterest  the  abundance  of  thy  goodness."^ 

The  flora  of  Egypt  is  not  very  varied,  but  v/ith  its  lotus 
and  papyrus  it  covers  the  earth  with  a  brilliant  robe. 
The  palm-tree  rises  majestically.  The  cow  and  the  ox 
fill  an  important  place,  as  in  all  agricultural  countries. 
The  sparrowhawk,  the  eagle,  and  the  ibis  fly  in  the  light 
air,  and  the  banks  of  the  river  are  rendered  dangerous 
by  the  crocodile  and  the  hippopotomus.  The  fauna  of 
Egypt  entered  largely  into  the  animal  symbolism  of  the 
national  religion.  The  nature  of  the  soil  did  not  allow 
of  idleness,  while  at  the  same  time  it  did  not  overtax 
the  energy  of  the  husbandman.  The  necessity  for  taking 
advantage  of  the  short  season  favourable  for  cultivation, 
and  of  never  neglecting  the  construction  of  canals  for  the 
water,  demanded  great  public  works.  It  was  imperative 
to  have  at  command  a  vast  pacific  army,  and  this  favoured 
the  formation  of  a  great  centralised  and  monarchical  state. 
This  system  was  well  adapted,  by  the  concentration  of 
national  forces  under  one  powerful  hand,  to  facilitate  a 
policy  of  conquest. 

Such  was  the  land  of  Egypt.  It  derived  its  name  from 
'  one  of  its  principal  gods."'^  The  race  which  inhabited  it 
;  at  the  remote  period  when  it  first  appeared  in  history  was 
i  not  indigenous.  It  had  been  preceded  by  a  black  race 
;  which  it  had  driven  off  the  field.  It  has  been  wrongly 
supposed  to  be  of  Ethiopian  origin. 

Both  the  character  of  the  language  and  the  physical 
type  of  the  Egyptian  indicate  an  Asiatic  parentage.  He 
belongs  to  the  proto-Semitic  race,  possibly  he  may  even 
be  connected  with  the  more  ancient  race  whence  sprang 
,  the  Aryans  and  Semites.^  Asia  was  always  to  the 
Egyptians  the  holy  land,  the  country  of  the  gods.  They 
came  probably  by  the  isthmus  of  Suez,  and  established 
themselves  first  between  the  Delta  and  the  cataracts. 
If    we   compare    the    figures    upon    the   ancient    monu- 

'  Maspero,  "  Hymne  au  Nil,"  Paris,  1868. 
*  "House  of  the  Worship  of  Ptah." 

^  Maspero,  "  Histoire  ancienne,"  p.  17;  Tiele.  "Comparative  History,' 
PP   17-19- 


THE  RELIGION  OF  EGYPT.  55 

ments  with  the  fellahs  of  to-day,  we  shall  observe 
that  the  physical  type  has  not  changed.  It  partakes  of 
the  fixity  which  is  the  general  characteristic  of  the 
country.  Tall  and  thin,  the  Egyptian  is  of  a  grave  phy- 
siognomy in  which  gentleness  is  blended  with  sadness. 
Over  his  lips  there  passes  a  sad  smile  which  has  a  touch 
of  resignation  in  it.  The  whole  aspect  of  the  Egyptian 
expresses  calm  reflection,  an  acceptance  of  the  immut- 
able order  of  things,  without  any  attempt  to  change  it. 
The  pre-historic  period  must  have  lasted  for  many  cen- 
turies. Doubtless  a  patriarchal  system  of  government 
prevailed,  with  an  animistic  religion,  in  which  the  stars 
and  the  fertilising  river  were  the  principal  manifestations 
of  the  divine. 

From  the  time  when  Egypt  begins  to  have  a  history, 
we  find  it  divided  into  small  principalities,  composed  of 
one  or  more  towns  with  small  territories  attached.  These 
were  called  nomcs,  and  were  ultimately  absorbed  in  one 
great  monarchy.  The  social  organisation  has  already  its 
hierarchy.  The  king  shares  his  authority  with  the  high 
priest.  He  receives  the  taxes,  directs  public  works,  and 
provides  for  the  defence  of  the  land.  The  nomes  still 
existed  in  the  state  of  subordinate  sovereignties  when  the 
great  kingdom  of  Egypt  was  constituted.  The  capital 
of  the  country  was  first  Memphis,  then  Thebes,  then 
Tanis.  Each  of  these  centres  had  its  particular  gods, 
which  were  in  reality  only  different  manifestations  of  one 
and  the  same  religious  conception.  Just  as  royalty  pre- 
served its  own  character,  though  one  dynasty  succeeded 
another,  so  religion  underwent  no  real  change,  though 
the  names  of  the  gods  were  altered.  All  these  sovereign 
gods  were  brought  together  at  last  in  a  sort  of  national 
Pantheon.  We  shall  see  how  at  first  each  represented 
one  particular  aspect  of  the  same  elementary  deity  ;  but 
subsequently  they  all  became  confounded  with  one 
another. 

We  shall  only  touch  on  the  history  of  Egypt  properly 
so-called,  in  so  far  as  it  contributes  to  the  evolution  of 
the  religious  idea.  All  that  we  know  of  its  highest  anti- 
quity is  through  mythic  story.  The  Egyptians  regarded 
their  early  kings,  those  who  had  raised  them  out  of  a  life 


56     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

of  barbarism,  as  gods,  come  down  to  earth  to  teach  them. 
There  is  a  vague  tradition  that  at  this  remote  period  the 
priestly  caste  had  a  certain  predominance.  The  first 
really  historic  period  is  the  Memphite,  in  which  king 
Menes  built  Memphis  and  made  it  the  true  capital,  and 
even  this  epoch  is  much  obscured  by  legend.  It  compre- 
hends ten  dynasties.  Great  temples  were  built  in  honour 
of  Ptah,  the  worship  of  the  gods  was  duly  appointed,  and 
the  march  of  conquest  began.  Art,  which  was  at  first 
very  rude  nnd  ne^  er  rose  above  the  roughest  outlines, 
received  a  real  impetus  at  the  close  of  this  period  under 
the  reign  of  Cheops  (Suphis),  Chephrenes  and  Mencheres, 
as  is  shown  by  the  erection  of  the  pyramids  of  Ghizeh, 
and  of  the  great  Sphynx. 

The  Memphite  period  lasted  for  nineteen  centuries. 

After  repeated  revolts  under  the  eleventh  dynasty, 
Thebes  took  the  place  of  Memphis  as  the  political  and 
religious  capital  of  the  country.  To  this  dynasty  Egypt 
owed  the  sinking  of  the  Lake  Moeris,  and  the  erection  of 
the  vast  royal  necropolis  known  as  the  Labyrinth.  Abys- 
sinia and  Nubia  weie  conquered.  It  was  during  the 
Theban  period,  that  the  terrible  invasion  of  shepherds 
belonging  to  the  Canaanitish  race  took  place.  They 
formed  the  fourteenth  dynasty.  When  they  had  been 
vanquished  and  expelled,  the  new  Theban  empire  began 
with  the  sixteenth  dynasty.  Then  the  great  Egyptian 
conquests  in  Asia  commenced.  Syria  fell  almost  entirely 
under  the  dominion  of  Egypt. 

The  great  sanctuaries  of  Thebes  and  Karnak  belong  to 
this  period.  The  reign  of  the  great  Sesostris  (Rameses  II.) 
was  one  succession  of  victorious  wars,  the  most  famous 
of  which  was  provoked  by  the  coalition  of  the  Syrian 
peoples.  When  Seso':triv.  had  assured  by  his  arms  the 
preponderance  of  Egypt,  he  devoted  himself  to  the  arts  of 
peace  and  multiplied  his  vast  buildings.  There  is  not  a 
ruin  in  Egypt  or  Nubia  which  does  not  bear  his  name. 
It  was  he  who  completed  the  temple  of  Luxor  at  Thebes. 
He  did  not  neglect  works  of  public  utility,  and  built 
several  cities.  Poetry  was  much  cultivated  during  his 
reign.  The  "  Book  of  the  Dead  "  belongs  for  the  most 
part  to  the  Theban  period.     This  was  the  golden  age  of 


THE  RELIGION  OF  EGYPT.  57 

Egypt.  Immediately  on  the  death  of  Sesostris,  the  unity 
of  the  empire  was  threatened  by  a  succession  oi  faineant 
kings.  It  needed  the  genius  of  Rameses  III.,  head  of 
the  twentieth  dynasty,  to  estabhsh  it  in  its  glory  by  his 
triumphant  wars.  This  restoration  however  did  not  last 
long.  Thebes  lost  its  pre-eminence,  and  the  twenty-first 
dynasty,  which  had  been  preceded  by  a  sacerdotal  re- 
volution, fixed  its  seat  at  Tanis  in  the  Delta  (700  B.C.). 
The  ruling  power  was  divided  among  the  cities  of  the 
Delta  :  Tanis,  Bubastis  and  Sais.  Syria  shook  off  the 
yoke  of  Egypt,  and  Egypt  itself  came  under  the  influence 
of  the  Greek  spirit,  through  the  numerous  mercenaries 
enrolled  in  its  armies.  Invaded  by  Cambyses,  the  son  of 
Cyrus,  Egypt  was  in  its  turn  compelled  to  submit  to  the 
domination  of  the  foreigner. 

The  Ptolemies,  after  the  conquest  of  Persia  by  Alex- 
ander, assured  the  predominance  of  the  genius  of  Greece, 
without  however  subverting  the  national  religion,  which 
was  too  closely  identified  with  the  race. 

Civilisation  had  reached  a  very  advanced  state  in  Egypt, 
The  various  grades  of  society  were  distinctly  marked,  but 
there  was  no  rigid  system  of  caste.  At  the  head  was  the 
king,  the  representative  of  the  deity.  His  power  was 
administered  in  the  nomes  by  governors.  There  was  a 
great  administrative  system  embracing  the  whole  country 
and  controlling  the  revenues.  Admission  to  these 
government  offices  was  by  examination.  The  priesthood 
was  not  exclusively  a  religious  body  ;  magistrates  were 
taken  from  among  the  priests.  The  civil  law  was  for  the 
most  part  equitable,  and  punishment  was  in  proportion  to 
the  crime.  Its  execution  was  presided  over  by  the  god- 
dess of  justice,  the  daughter  of  Ra.  The  people  were 
absolutely  at  the  disposal  of  the  king,  who  enrolled  them 
in  his  armies,  which  were  augmented  by  large  numbers  of 
mercenaries,  and  compelled  them  at  will  either  to  fight  his 
battles  or  to  assist  in  the  great  public  works  by  which 
the  country  was  covered  with  temples  and  palaces.  The 
military  organisation  was  altogether  feudal,  every  landed 
proprietor  furnishing  his  contingent.  The  life  of  the 
great  Egyptian  lords,  as  we  find  it  reproduced  on  the 
mural  paintings  of  the  tombs,  was  sumptuous  and  splen- 


58     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY 

did.  Literature,  properly  so-called,  was  less  cultivated 
in  Egypt  than  the  plastic  arts.  Hieroglyphic  writing  has 
not  at  all  the  mysterious  character  that  has  often  been 
assigned  to  it.  The  Egyptian  hieroglyph  is  not  a  sym- 
bolic sign  of  ideas,  as  was  long  believed ;  it  represents 
sounds  either  alphabetic  or  syllabic.  Only  the  ideographic 
signs  are  known  to  be  symbols.  The  cursive  writing  was 
a  mere  modification  or  abbreviation  of  the  hieroglyphs. 

§  I. — First   Phase   of   the    Religious    Development 
OF  Egypt. 

Egypt  had  its  religious  as  well  as  its  civil  capitals. 
They  were  successively  Memphis,  Thebes,  Sais,  and  each 
corresponded  to  a  particular  period  of  religious  develop- 
ment, though  the  essence  remained  the  same.  The 
religion  of  Egypt  preserved  to  the  last,  as  we  have  said,  a 
latent  element  of  primitive  naturism  brought  from  Asia 
by  the  first  invaders  of  the  country,  but  it  never,  like  the 
Chaldeo-Assyrian  religion,  made  this  an  indestructible 
part  of  its  mythology.  It  greatly  modified  it  at  a  very 
early  stage,  but  the  popular  preference  still  clung  to  it. 
It  must  be  admitted  also  that  at  no  stage  of  its  religious 
development  did  Egypt  free  itself  from  the  fundamental 
error  of  naturism,  which  consists  in  confounding  nature 
with  the  deity  under  various  names.  Egypt  never  learned 
to  lift  the  heavy  folds  of  the  many-coloured  veil  of  nature, 
and  to  pass  through  it  into  the  sanctuary  of  the  God 
who  is  a  spirit.  But  unlike  the  sombre  and  melancholy 
Chaldee,  the  Egyptian  did  not  live  under  a  reign  of  terror, 
or  people  the  world,  as  the  Chaldeans  did,  with  a  host 
of  evil  genii.  His  imagination  was  not  haunted  to  the 
same  degree  with  unseen  demons. 

This  was  because  the  Egyptian  lived  in  a  fertile  land 
under  sunny  skies.  The  river  of  Egypt  did  not  (like  the 
Euphrates)  gender  death ;  nor  was  it  the  haunt  of  the 
seven  evil  spirits  of  the  deep,  accursed  leaders  of  the  hosts 
of  evil.  The  Nile  was,  so  to  speak,  the  nursing  father  of 
the  whole  country.  Yet  it  had  its  season  of  sterility, 
when  its  aspect  became  stern  and  terrible.  Hence  terror 
was  not  altogether  banished  from  this  religion,  generally 


THE  RELIGION  OF  EGYPT.  59 


so  serene.  We  shall  see  the  powers  of  evil  playing  an 
important  part  in  the  later  mythc^logy.  At  first  the 
Egyptians  tried  to  exorcise  them  by  the  means  in  use 
among  primitive  nations.  Diseases  were  looked  upon  as 
possessions  by  evil  spirits,  and  magic  arts  were  tried  to 
break  the  spell.  We  find  a  survival  of  these  early  super- 
stitions, though  much  modified  by  higher  conceptions  of 
religion,  in  the  use  of  amulets.  Th  .se  were  supposed  to 
strengthen  the  beneficent  influence  of  the  terrestrial  mani- 
festations of  the  sidereal  god,  who  was  the  favourite  deity 
of  the  populace.  The  Egyptians  imagined  the  legendary 
incidents  of  the  contest  of  Osiris  with  the  powers  of  evil 
to  be  of  ill  omen.  Hence  the  anniversary  of  his  momentary 
defeat  was  an  accursed  day.^  It  was  necessary  on  that 
day  to  avoid  going  near  the  banks  of  the  river,  or  the 
unwary  man  would  be  sure  to  fall  in  and  become  a  prey 
to  the  crocodiles.  The  Nile  thus  became  on  these  ill- 
fated  days  another  Euphrates,  the  haunt  of  the  spirits  of 
the  deep,  personified  by  the  cruel-jawed  monsters.'-^ 

It  was  especially  the  animist  phase  of  primitive 
naturism  which  was  perpetuated  in  Egypt,  not  only  in 
the  popular  superstitions,  but  also  in  the  prevailing  idea 
of  religion.  To  the  Egyptians  every  natural  phenomenon, 
every  living  thing,  had  its  spirit-double,  as  is  shown  in  all 
their  legends.  Was  not  this  the  meaning  of  the  conflict, 
now  victorious,  now  the  reverse,  of  which  the  sun  was  the 
hero  ?  The  myth  of  Osiris  was  grafted  upon  the  sidereal 
animism  of  earlier  times,  and  coloured  with  the  partial 
anthropomorphism  which  we  find  amongst  the  very  lowest 
savages.  The  idea  of  animism  had  been  suggested  to 
man  by  the  experimental  discovery  he  had  made  of  the 
complexity  of  his  own  being.  He  was  conscious  in  him- 
self of  a  double  being.  We  shall  find  this  idea  of  the 
double  playing  an  important  part  in  the  later  anthropology 
and  theology  of  Egypt.  The  application  of  animism  to 
the  animal  creation,  so  common  in  the  first  stage  of 
religious  development,  was  carried  to  an  extraordinary 
length  in  Egypt.  The  animal  was  to  the  Egyptian  a 
living  fetish,  a  powerful  manifestatio  -  of  the  deity  before 

'  Maspero,  "  Papyrus  Harris,"  p.  2 _-.      Pani.  1879. 
«  Ibid.,  p.  4:. 


6o     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

it  became  his  most  expressive  symbol.  Even  in  the  best 
days  of  the  national  religion,  when  to  the  more  thoughtful, 
the  animal  had  ceased  to  be  anything  more  than  the 
symbol  of  deity,  the  common  people  simply  worshipped 
the  sacred  beasts  and  birds.  We  find  a  significant  illus- 
tration of  early  animism  in  the  importance  attached  in 
worship  to  sacred  formulas,  the  holy  words  which,  accord- 
ing to  the  religion  of  Egypt,  never  ceased  to  exercise  a 
real  power  both  over  the  great  gods  and  the  spirits  of 
evil.  The  "Book  of  the  Dead"  is  the  special  monument 
of  this  fundamental  belief.  Each  of  its  prayers  is  pre- 
ceded or  terminated  by  the  assertion  that  he  who  shall 
duly  recite  it  shall  be  saved,  and  shall  come  off  conqueror 
in  the  great  conflict  beyond  the  grave.  Evidently  the 
Egyptian,  like  the  whole  ancient  world  from  its  dim  be- 
ginnings, holds  that  sacred  words  are  powerful  because 
they  contain  a  divine  force,  a  spirit. 

According  to  a  similar  and  no  less  ancient  belief,  the 
little  figures  placed  in  the  tombs  were  regarded  as  helpers 
of  the  dead  man,  and  the  food  laid  within  his  reach 
was  thought  to  retain  its  nutritive  virtue.  In  all  this 
there  is  the  same  idea — that  there  is  an  invisible  spiritual 
energy  pervading  the  natural  or  corporeal  form.  Sub- 
sequently the  Egyptian  carried  this  idea  to  its  extreme 
issues,  ascribing  a  sort  of  real  existence  to  the  mural 
paintings  on  the  tombs  in  which  the  events  of  the  pre- 
vious life  were  depicted. 

To  what  extent  the  monotheistic  intuition  which  under- 
lies the  most  elementary  religious  ideas,  was  consciously 
present  in  this  prehistoric  period,  it  is  impossible  to  say. 
It  is  nevertheless  probable  that  it  developed  here  more 
rapidly  than  elsewhere,  since  monotheism  was  affirmed 
much  more  emphatically  in  Egypt  than  among  Asiatic 
nations.  It  was  still  very  imperfect,  however,  for  it  was 
rather  the  totality  of  being  which  was  ascribed  to  the 
supreme  god,  than  sovereignty  over  all  life.  We  are 
persuaded  that  there  has  been  much  exaggeration  about 
the  purity  of  Egyptian  monothism,  both  in  its  obscure 
beginnings  and  in  the  time  of  its  fuller  development. 
This  does  not  imply  that  we  do  not  recognise  a  very  real 
distinction  between  the  great  Egyptian  god  and  the  sun. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  EGYPT.  61 

A  mere  sidereal  deity  would  not  have  said  to  the  sun, 
"  Come  to  me."  The  great  Egyptian  god  controls  and 
guides  the  stars  as  well  as  the  earth. 

It  is  equally  certain  that  the  idea  of  unity  predominates 
over  that  of  multiplicity,  and  that  we  have  not  to  deal 
with  a  vulgar  polytheism.  Only  this  divine  unity  com- 
prehends the  whole  world  in  itself  as  the  whole  com- 
prehends the  parts.  Egyptian  monotheism  is  strongly 
tinctured  with  pantheism,  as  is  always  the  case  where  the 
intuition  of  the  moral  consciousness,  which  alone  witnesses 
to  a  god  distinct  from  and  ruler  over  the  world,  does  not 
occupy  the  first  place  in  the  system.  But  this  moral  con- 
sciousness did  victoriously  assert  itself  in  ancient  Egypt, 
and  made  more  than  one  breach  in  that  Chinese  wall 
of  universal  naturism,  which  would  fain  imprison  man 
within  the  terrestial  and  the  finite.  It  seems  sometimes 
to  form  a  religion  of  its  own  within  the  national  religion, 
elevating  the  moral  intuition  above  the  pantheistic  idea. 
We  shall  see  how  far  Egypt  carried  this  happy  inconsis- 
tency which  we  trace  throughout  the  pagan  world. ^ 

§  II. — The  Root  Ideas  of  the  Religion  of  Egypt 
AFTER  Prehistoric  Times. 

While  primitive  animism  is  maintained  almost  in  its 
integrity  in  the  Assyrio-Chaldean  religion,  it  undergoes 
very  important  changes  in  Egypt,  from  the  commencement 
of  the  historic  evolution.  The  great  gods  of  Chaldea 
are  in   fact  only  magnified  impersonations  of  good  and 

•  M.  Pierret,  in  his  learned  work  entitled  "  Le  pantheon  Egj^ptien " 
(Paris,  1SS2),  lays  great  stress  on  this  development  of  monotheism.  The 
many  passages  which  he  quotes,  fail  however  to  establish  anything  more 
than  a  monotheism  strongly  tinctured  with  pantheism.  This  they  con- 
stantly affirm,  as  is  clear  from  the  following  passage  cited  by  M.  Pierret : 
"  The  sacred  unity  engenders  the  gods  and  assumes  various  forms,  but 
itself  remains  unknown  "  ("  Book  of  the  Dead,"'  p.  102).  "The  substance  of 
the  gods  is  the  very  body  of  God  "  (Ibid.).  M.  Pierret  repeatedl}'  admits 
that  the  supreme  god  is  identified  wnth  the  lower  gods,  especially  the 
sidereal  gods,  and  that  he  sometimes  passes  from  the  first  to  the  second 
rank,  as  when  he  is  identified  with  the  divine  scribe  of  the  gods  (p.  26). 
The  explanation  is  that  monotheistic  pantheism  perpetual!}'  drifts  into 
the  multiplication  of  gods.  The  divine  exists  in  each  separate  part  as 
in  the  whole. 


62     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

evil  spirits  ;  they  very  rarely  intervene  by  positive  acts 
in  human  history.  They  are  essentially  cosmic  forces 
which  are  to  be  made  propitious  to  man  by  means  of  in- 
cantations. They  are  practically  identified  with  the  stars, 
which  would  appear,  from  the  development  given  to  astro- 
logy, to  have  been  very  important  factors  in  human  affairs. 
These  heavenly  bodies  give  a  permanent  local  habitation 
to  the  divine  power,  which  exerts  its  influence  rather  by  a 
mechanical  carrying  out  of  certain  fixed  laws,  than  by 
destined  acts  prompted  by  any  motive. 

In  Egypt  it  is  otherwise.  The  drama  of  natural  life,  so 
impressive  in  its  recurrence,  is  translated  to  the  sphere 
of  the  divine,  which  is  not  separated  by  any  sharp  line  of 
demarcation  from  the  earthly  life.  The  Egyptian  god  is 
himself  the  great  champion  of  the  conflict  with  the  power 
of  evil,  which  enwraps  the  world  in  its  death-shroud. 
Religion  thus  becomes  a  much  more  practical  thing,  and 
cannot  be  reduced  to  a  mere  series  of  rites  and  formulas. 
It  also  has  its  battle  to  fight.  We  must  not  disguise  from 
ourselves,  however,  that  there  is  little  perception  as  yet  of 
the  true  moral  life,  of  which  we  only  get  brief  flashes.  The 
history  of  the  gods  is  not  indeed  a  real  history,  for  it  is 
all  governed  by  immutable  natural  laws.  The  conflict  is 
only  apparent ;  its  various  phases  succeed  each  other  by 
the  same  law  of  necessity,  which  governs  the  change  of 
the  seasons  and  the  flow  and  ebb  of  the  Nile. 

The  power  of  evil  is  from  its  very  nature  adverse  to 
man,  as  winter  is  cold,  and  night  dark.  Its  temporary 
triumph  is  as  inevitable  as  the  succession  of  the  seasons. 
The  victory  of  the  god  of  light  is  equally  certain  to  come 
in  its  turn.  We  are  in  a  world  governed  by  pantheistic 
fatalism.  Yet  there  is  real  progress  in  this  dramatic 
symbolism.  It  prepares  the  way  for,  or  at  any  rate  it 
foreshadows,  the  true  moral  conflict  in  which  the  sove- 
reignty of  the  will  is  fully  recognised.  So  truly  is  this 
the  case  that  the  Egyptian  religion  concludes  by  making 
the  drama  of  the  natural  life  the  symbol  of  the  drama 
of  the  moral  life,  which  after  being  begun  on  this  side 
the  grave,  is  carried  on  and  completed  beyond  the 
reach  of  fatalism,  in  the  mysterious  regions  of  the  after 
life.     Thus  was  wrought,  or  more  truly,  thus  was  begun 


2 HE  RELIGION  OF  EGYPT.  63 

a    mighty   moral    evolution,    in    spite    of  the    pantheistic 
naturism  which  still  characterised  the  religion  of  Egypt. 

Between  these  two  opposing  currents  the  religious 
conscience  of  Egypt  drifted  backwards  and  forwards,  and 
it  would  be  idle  to  look  for  logical  consistency  amidst 
such  conflicting  influences. 

In  our  account  of  the  Egyptian  theodicy  we  shall  only 
dwell  on  fundamental  points,  on  what  may  be  regarded 
as  the  root  ideas  of  the  religion  of  Egypt,  which  retained 
its  distinctive  features  in  spite  of  all  local  diversities  and 
political  changes.  There  were  dynasties  of  gods  as 
there  were  dynasties  of  kings,  subject  to  change  of 
time  and  place ;  but  the  notion  of  the  divinity,  like  the 
institution  of  royalty,  underwent  no  change.  The  ideas 
are  substantially  the  same  under  the  new  empire  as  under 
the  old,  whether  the  capital  is  Memphis  or  Thebes. 
Only  the  names,  or  rather  the  secondary  attributes,  are 
changed,  according  as  one  manifestation  or  another  of 
the  solar  divinity  predominates  in  the  religious  conception. 
The  sun-god  is  called  Ra  at  Heliopolis,  Osiris  at  Abydos, 
Ptah  at  Memphis,  until  Memphis  becomes  the  capital  of 
the  ancient  empire,  when  he  becomes  confounded  with 
Osiris. 

Amun,  the  great  god  of  Thebes,  is  not  to  be  clearly 
distinguished  from  Khem  throughout  the  period  of  the 
middle  empire.  His  supremacy  is  more  clearly  affirmed 
under  the  new  empire.  He  is  then  confounded  with  Ra 
the  supreme  sun-god,  and  thus  becomes  Amun-Ra.  He  is 
thus  at  once  the  hidden  invisible  god,  and  the  god  mani- 
fested in  the  dazzling  light  of  day.  But  whether  the 
supreme  god  is  called  Osiris,  Ra,  Ptah  or  Anubis,  he  is 
always  one  and  the  same,  and  his  cosmical  development 
goes  on  by  the  same  evolution  with  its  three  invariable 
degrees.  We  find  the  same  divine  triad,  the  same 
conflict  between  the  good  and  bad  elements  the  same 
final  triumph,  and  the  same  relation  between  humanity 
and  divinity.  Egypt  has  always  maintained  this  persistent 
identity  of  her  theodicy,  which  changes  only  in  its  suc- 
cessive appellations,  frequently  uniting  all  its  gods  under 
one  single  denomination.  Its  policy  was  the  same  as 
that  of  Rome.     It  had  its  pantheon,  constructed  not  of 


6+     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

Stone,  but  of  sacred  syllables,  which  gave  it  a  far  higher 
value  than  the  most  costly  sanctuaries,  in  a  country  where 
sacred  words  were  supposed  to  have  supreme  efficacy.^ 

Let  us  now  try  to  present  in  a  few  words  the  leading 
features  of  this  theodicy.  Beneath  the  waters  of  the 
primeval  ocean  called  Nuh,  which  signifies  "  the  primordial 
water,"  "  the  abyss,"  the  hidden  god,  who  is  also  called 
the  supreme  god,  came  into  being.  He  is  at  once  father 
and  mother,  unceasingly  producing  universal  life,  and  he 
lives  also  in  his  son,  who  is  no  other  than  himself.  This 
forms  the  great  divine  triad.  The  father  is  called  Ptah 
at  Memphis,  Amun  at  Thebes,  Osiris  at  Abydos.  The 
mother  is  Sekhet  at  Memphis,  Isis  at  Abydos,  where  she 
is  always  united  to  her  sister  Nephthys,  who  resembles 
her  in  every  respect.  Lastly,  she  is  called  Maut  at 
Thebes.  The  son  is  called  Imhotep  or  Horus  at  Memphis, 
and  Khensu  at  Thebes.  These  names  are  definitely 
retained.  They  get  frequently  mixed  up  in  course  of 
time,  a^is  clear  from  this  passage  of  lamblichus,  ''The 
demiurgic  intellect,  who  is  the  curator  of  truth  and 
wisdom,  descending  into  generation,  and  leading  the 
power  of  occult  reasons  into  light,  is  called  in  the  Egyptian 
tongue,  Amun  ;  but  in  consequence  of  perfecting  all  things 
with  veracity  and  artificially  he  is  called  Phtha.  So  far 
also  as  he  is  effective  of  good,  he  is  called  Osiris,  and 
he  has  other  appellations  through  other  powers  and 
energies."  ^ 

This  hidden  god,  the  world-Father,  is  in  reality  the 
Absolute  Being  from  whom  all  existence  proceeds.  He 
is  the  only  One  who  has  essential  life,  the  only  One  who 
really  creates,  the  only  generator  in  heaven  and  earth, 
the  father  of  fathers,  the  mother  of  mothers,  the  creator 
of  all  beings,  the  ruler  of  all  things,  who  gives  birth  to 
the  gods  and  gives  form  to  himself.  He  has  created  his 
members  which  become  gods.^     Deep  darkness  is  round 


'  See  chaps,  v.,  vi.,  vii.,  viii.,  in  Tide's  "Comparative  History  of 
Religions,"  for  a  very  learned  discussion  of  tliese  variations  in  the 
theodicy  of  Egypt,  and  their  correspondence  with  the  various  phases 
of  Egyptian  historJ^ 

*  lamblichus,  "  De  Mysteriis,"  sect,  viii.,  chap,  iii, 

*  "Livre  des  Morts,"'  chap.  17,  1.  3,  4. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  EGYPT.  65 

about  him.  His  nest  is  not  seen.  He  is  the  creative 
soul  of  the  celestial  abyss  ;  the  maker  of  his  own  abode  ;  ^ 
he  is  the  only  one  in  the  "  primordial  water."  ^  The 
"  Book  of  the  Dead  "  discerns  the  hidden  sun-god  in  all 
the  great  gods  of  the  Egyptian   Pantheon. 

"  I  am  Turn  (the  hidden  sun-god),  a  being  who  is  one  alone  ; 
I  am  Ra  in  his  first  supremacy, 
I  am  the  great  god,  the  sell-existing ; 
The  creator  of  his  name,  the  lord  of  all  gods, 
Whom  none  among  the  gods  upholds. 
I  was  yesterday  ;  I  know  the  to-morrow."  ' 

The  identity  of  the  gods  of  the  triad  comes  out 
clearly  in  the  saying :  "  The  becoming  of  Osiris  is  the 
birth  of  Horus.  Osiris  lives  again  in  him."*  It  is 
not  only  Horus  the  Deliverer  whom  this  First  Cause  of 
all  things  holds  within  the  depths  of  his  being,  it  is  also 
the  evil  element — Set,  who  represents  evil,  under  the  form 
of  a  sinuous  serpent,  in  this  drama  of  universal  life,  into 
which  we  perforce  return  as  soon  as  we  leave  the  frozen 
regions  of  metaphysical  abstraction.  "  I  am  Osiris,  the 
lord  of  the  west,"  we  read  in  the  "  Book  of  the  Dead." 
"  The  perfection  of  being  is  in  me.  No-Being  is  in  me. 
Among  the  gods  I  am  Set,  the  not-Being."  ^ 

Here  we  have  that  fatalistic  pantheism  which  lies  at 
the  basis  of  the  religion  of  Egypt,  and  which  should 
logically  have  excluded  every  moral  idea.  If  it  did  not 
do  so,  it  was  because  it  was  impossible  for  a  young  and 
powerful  race  full  of  the  love  of  life,  to  confine  itself  to 
this  region  of  abstract  metaphysics.  These  purely  in- 
tellectual entities  got  warmed  and  vivified,  so  to  speak, 
in  the  fervent  shining  of  its  sun,  which  had  already  been 
worshipped  in  the  childhood  of  the  race,  when  sensation 
predominated  over  reflection,  Egypt  returned  in  part 
to  its  primitive  intuitions,  but  it  brought  to  them  a  degree 
of  intelligence  which  prevented  its  falling  back  into  mere 
sidereal    naturalism.       In    fact,    however    large    the    part 


'  "Livre  des  Morts,"  c.  85,  1.  9. 
"^  Ibid.,  c.  17,  1.  3. 

*  Tide's  "  Comparative  Religion,"  p.  28. 

*  "Book  of  the  Dead,"  c.  78,  1.  13,  14. 
»  Ibid.,  c.  8,  1.  I,  2,  3. 


66     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANI2Y. 

assigned  to  the  srn  in  its  mythology,  it  was  never 
confounded  with  tl  e  supreme  divinity.  The  sun  was 
only  one  of  his  meaifestations,  one  of  his  members,  for 
as  we  have  seen  in  a  passage  from  the  "  Book  of  the 
Dead"  already  quoted,  Amun  and  Osiris  create  their 
own  members  which  are  gods.  These  gods,  indefinite 
in  number,  detract  nothing  from  the  greatness  and  mys- 
terious sublimity  of  the  supreme  and  hidden  god ;  but 
they  introduce  conflict  into  the  religious  life.  While 
only  intended  to  represent  the  supreme  god,  they  yet 
fill  up  the  whole  foreground,  and  are  so  identified  with 
his  beneficent  operations  that  they  are  sometimes  called 
by  his  names.  Is  not  the  powerful  Benefactor  who 
spreads  the  healing  waters  over  the  thirsty  land,  and 
brings  back  the  sun  out  of  the  chambers  of  the  dark, 
called  Ra  or  Osiris  ?  In  his  essence  undoubtedly  he  is 
still  the  mysterious  incomprehensible  Being ;  but  that 
which  he  effects  through  his  divine  members,  which  are 
part  of  himself,  concerns  man  much  more  than  the 
mystery  of  his  essence. 

Two  causes  especially  contributed  to  attach  a  growing 
importance  to  these  sensible  manifestations  of  the  deity. 
On  the  one  hand,  there  was,  as  we  have  said,  the  aspect 
of  the  struggle  for  existence  in  a  land  like  Egypt,  where 
if  only  a  drought  prevailed  through  the  failure  of  the 
periodical  overflow  of  the  river,  desolation  and  death 
spread  far  and  wide.  On  the  other  hand  there  was  the 
strong  intuition  of  immortality,  the  absorbing  preoccupa- 
tion with  the  future,  characteristic  of  the  race.  Hence  a 
mythology,  at  first  purel}'  naturalistic,  went  on  developing 
and  becoming  more  and  more  spiritual,  till  it  embraced 
the  highest  moral  ideas. 

After  creating  the  gods,  his  own  members,  the  hidden 
and  divine  Principle  of  all  things  formed  the  world.  He 
said  to  the  sun,  "  Come  to  me,"  and  the  sun  began  to 
shine.  He  formed  tlie  earth  and  divided  the  waters  into 
two  great  masses — the  depths  of  ocean  beneath  and 
the  firmament  of  waters  above.  Then  appeared  the  evil 
spirit  personified  in  the  serpent  Apap  or  Apophis,  called 
also  Set,  with  whom  the  beneficent  gods  were  bound  to 
wage  perpetual  warfare,  though  he  also  was  an  emanation 


THE  RELIGION  OF  EGYPT.  67' 

from  the  Divine  Absolute.  He  really  represented  the 
devouring,  scorching  flame  of  the  sun.  This  conflict 
was  carried  on  both  on  earth  and  in  heaven.  To  the 
Egyptian,  Egypt  was  the  world.  To  him,  therefore,  the 
victory  of  good  over  evil  was  symbolised  by  the  recur- 
ring overflow  of  the  Nile,  on  which  the  prosperity  of  the 
country  depended. 

According  to  Herodotus  and  Plutarch,  the  myth  of 
Osiris  meant  nothing  more  than  this.  It  simply  repre- 
sented the  alternating  seasons  of  drought  and  flood. 
The  drought  was  Osiris  made  a  victim  by  Typhon — 
the  symbolic  personification  of  the  sun.  His  resurrec- 
tion after  the  victory  of  his  son  Horus  over  Typhon,' 
symbolised  the  return  of  the  life-giving  waters.^  This 
interpretation  of  the  myth,  in  which  there  is  evidently 
a  confusion  with  that  of  the  Phrygian  Adonis,  is  much 
too  narrow.  The  cessation  of  drought,  as  the  result  of 
the  overflow  of  the  Nile,  was  undoubtedly  attributed 
to  the  beneficent  deity ;  but  his  victorious  conflict  with 
darkness  has  a  far  wider  significance,  in  Egyptian  mytho- 
logy, than  the  mere  fertilising  action  of  the  river,  even 
without  any  reference  to  the  deliverance  wrought  by 
him  in  the  realm  of  the  dead.  Herodotus  himself  does 
not  ignore  this,  for  he  makes  Orisis  reign  in  the  abode 
of  shades.  The  mind  of  the  Egyptians  was  much  im- 
pressed by  the  setting  of  the  sun  and  the  vanishing  of 
the  light,  even  before  they  discerned  in  it  the  most 
glorious  of  symbols.  As  they  had  not  yet  risen  to  the 
idea  of  the  fixity  of  natural  law,  every  return  of  the  sun 
after  its  setting,  seemed  to  them  a  new  triumph  of  the 
beneficent  deity. 

The  glory  of  his  manifestation  and  victory  over  dark- 
ness, inspired  the  noblest  poetry  of  Egypt,  though  it  was 
always  somewhat  crippled  by  its  sacerdotal  and  liturgical 
character.  In  the  favourite  figures  employed  in  this  poetry, 
we  recognise  the  two  characteristic  traits  of  the  Egyptians, 
love  for  their  river  and  delight  in  sunshine.  The 
luminous  track  in  which  Osiris  moves  under  the  form  of 
the  sun,  is  like  another  Nile-flood  in  the  heavens.     He 

'  Herodotus,  "Hist.,"  ii.  49. 


68     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

navigates  it  in  a  celestial  bark  of  which  he  manages  the 
sails.  Horus  is  in  the  prow  of  the  boat,  sweeping  the 
horizon  with  his  glance.  A  number  of  inferior  gods 
circle  round  him.  The  purest  among  men,  described  as 
those  who  never  rest,  hold  the  oars.  He  himself  carries 
in  his  hand  the  lance  which  is  to  transfix  the  serpent  Apap, 
who  is  also  Set  the  malevolent.  One  of  the  hymns  of  the 
worship  of  Ra  in  the  "  Book  of  the  Dead,"  runs  : — 

"  Hail,  thou  who  art  come  as  Turn,  and  who  hast  been  the  creator 

of  the  gods  ! 
Hail,  thou  who  art  come  as  soul,  of  the  holy  souls  in  Amenti ! 
Hail,  supreme  among  the  gods,  who  by  thy  beauties  dost  illumine 

the  kingdom  of  the  dead  ! 
Hail,  thou  who  comest  in  radiance  and  travellest  in  thy  disk  ! 
Hail,  greatest  of  all  the  gods,  bearing  rule  in  the  highest,  reigning 

in  the  nethermost  heaven  ! 
Hail,  thou  who  dost  penetrate  within  the  nethermost  heaven,  and 

hast  command  of  all  the  gates  ! 
Hail,  among  the  gods,  weigher  of  words  in  the  kingdom  of  the 

dead ! 
Hail,  thou  art  in  thine  aboda  (nest)  creator  of  the  nethermost 

heaven  by  thy  virtue. 
Hail,  renowned  and  glorified  god  1     Thy  enemies  fall  upon  their 

scaffold ! 
Hail,  thou  hast  slain  the  guilty,  thou  hast  destroyed  Apap  (the 

serpent  of  darkness  ").' 

These  sublime  hymns  to  the  sun  do  not  go  so  far  as 
to  identify  that  luminary  with  the  supreme  god,  one  of 
whose  appellations  is  "The  mysterious  soul  of  the  Lord 
of  the  disk,"  or  simply,  "  soul  of  the  sun."  ^  These 
poems  contain  also  more  than  one  allusion  to  his  highest 
function  as  conqueror  of  the  power  of  darkness  and 
judge  of  the  dead. 

"  Thy  soul,"  it  is  said,  "  tries  those  who  are  in  the 
nethermost  heaven.  Thou  givest  breath  to  him  who  is 
in  the  kingdom  of  the  dead."  In  fact  the  triumphal 
progress  of  this  light-god  is  the  sublime  symbol  of  the 
destinies  of  man,  or  rather  he  carries  man  along  with  him 
into  the  light  of  life  beyond  the  darkness  of  death,  after 
associating  him  with  his  conflict  as  with  his  victory  over 
the  power  of  evil,  if  he  has  merited  this  redemptive  union. 

'  Tiele,  "Comparative  History,"  pp.  83,  84. 
*  Tiele,  p.  44. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  EGYPT.  69 

Not  only  does  the  sun  set  in  the  west  to  rise  again,  so 
also  does  the  soul  of  the  just.  Thus  these  regions  which 
seemed  given  over  to  the  curse,  are  lighted  up  with  a 
glorious  hope,  and  beyond  the  dark  veil  which  nightly 
falls  upon  the  earth,  lies  the  satisfaction  of  that  deep, 
intense  craving  for  immortality,  which  was  the  noblest 
aspiration  of  the  whole  Egyptian  world. 

We  have  only  spoken  of  the  greater  gods  of  the 
Egyptian  pantheon,  those  which  under  various  names  we 
find  to  be  essentially  one  both  at  Thebes  and  Memphis, 
and  which  ultimately  become  merged  into  one  another. 
A  multitude  of  other  gods  were  worshipped  in  Egypt,  but 
they  were  only  manifestations  of  the  same  divine  principle 
presented  under  a  variety  of  aspects,  solar  and  sidereal, 
so  many  modes  of  the  one  Divine  being,  peopling  the 
heights  of  the  sacerdotal  theodicy.  To  the  common  people 
however  they  were  all  separate  deities.  There  were  nu- 
merous personifications  of  the  moon.  The  most  familiar 
is  Thot,  at  the  head  of  Ibis,  the  divine  scribe,  the  god  of 
sacred  science,  the  registrar  of  judgment.^  The  gods 
are  always  grouped  in  triads,  and  form  one  long  chain  of 
emanations  from  the  supreme  deity. 

We  have  referred  to  the  great  triads  of  Memphis  and 
Thebes.  We  find  the  same  elsevv^here  under  other 
names,  without  any  change  in  the  fundamental  idea  of 
the  Egyptian  religion.  We  are  always  brought  back  in 
the  end  to  the  higher  triad,  that  is,  to  the  conception  of 
a  supreme  god  reproducing  himself  and  living  again  in 
his  son,  through  whom  he  overcomes  the  power  of  evil, 
which  itself  also  proceeds  from  him  and  is  only  contin- 
gently and  apparently  evil.  We  know  that  the  Egyptians 
believed  that  these  gods  had  once  actually  reigned  upon 
the  earth,  and  that  they  formed  the  first  dynasties  of  the 
Egyptian  monarchy  in  a  remote  past. 

In  order  to  understand  fully  the  highest  moral  develop- 
ment of  the  religion  of  Egypt,  we  must  remember  what 
was  the  Egyptian  idea  of  man,  of  his  origin  and  destiny, 
and  of  his  life  beyond  the  grave.  Men  are  supposed  to 
have   sprung  from   the   two  eyes   of  the  supreme  god. 


'  Lenormant,  "Manual  of  Ancient  History,"  pp.  307,  322. 


70    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 


They  are  called  the  flock  of  Ra,  and  are  subdivided  into 
four  races — the  Egyptians,  Negroes,  Asiatics,  and  the 
white-skinned  nations  of  the  north.  Ra  is  addressed  as 
"  Maker  of  the  heavens,  creator  of  the  beings  produced 
out  of  the  world,  who  makes  all  kinds  (sorts)  of  forms 
of  existence,  calls  the  gods  into  life,  creates  himself  lord 
of  life,  who  fills  the  gods  with  fulness  of  life,"  ^ 

The  Egyptian  anthropology  is  most  complicated,  and 
only  to  be  explained  by  the  animist  or  spiritist  con- 
ception of  the  double.  During  his  earthly  life,  man  is  a 
being  composed  of  mind  and  body ;  by  the  mind  he  is 
connected  with  God,  by  the  body  with  matter.  Mind, 
before  becoming  incorporated  in  matter,  is  free  to  visit 
all  worlds.  When  it  enters  the  body  it  lays  down  its  robe 
of  fire  which  would  consume  the  gross  elements  of  matter, 
and  enshrouds  itself  in  an  inferior  substance  called  Ba, 
which  is  the  soul.  It  only  communicates  with  the  body 
by  the  medium  of  the  spirit  or  the  breath.  The  breath 
penetrates  and  animates  the  whole  organism.  We  have 
thus  two  beings  in  the  man,  each  with  its  double — the 
mind  enshrouded  in  the  soul,  the  spirit  enveloped  in 
matter,  and  these  two  doubles  interpenetrate  each  other. 
Man  alone  has  mind,  and  is  thus  distinguished  from  the 
brute.^ 

Mind  endeavours  to  rise  to  the  higher  life,  that  is  to  its 
own  divine  life.  When  man  allows  the  lower  nature  to 
predominate,  he  sinks  gradually  into  nothingness,  but  not 
without  undergoing  cruel  torments.  If  the  higher  nature 
prevails,  he  passes  victoriously  through  the  supreme 
ordeals  which  await  him  beyond  the  tomb,  and  the  issue 
of  which  is  determined  by  the  judgment  of  the  gods.  It 
is  in  this  after  life  that  he  becomes  associated  with  the 
sun-god  whose  history  becomes  his  own  history,  for  he  so 
unites  himself  to  him  that  he  is  truly  in  him  and  bears  his 
name.  He  calls  himself  an  Osiris,  and  enters  the  bark  of 
the  sun,  to  arrive  at  length  on  the  mysterious  shore  of  the 
West  where  all  life  is  renewed. 

There  is  however  this  diiTerence  between  the  human 
Osiris  and  the  Osiris  of  the  heavens,  that  there  is  nothing 

*  Tide,  "  Comparative  Religion,"  p.  Z},. 

*  Maspero,  p.  36, 


THE  RELIGION  OF  EGYPT.  71 

fatalistic  about  his  deliverance,  which  depends  on  the 
sentence  passed  on  his  earthly  life.  In  order  that  he  may 
be  admitted  to  the  honour  of  the  supreme  ordeals  which 
are  always  severe,  he  must  have  triumphed  here  below 
over  the  baser  passions  which  wind  around  his  soul  like 
the  coils  of  the  serpent,  seeking  to  strangle  the  sun- 
god.  This  god  also  has  his  conflict  which  is  described 
in  sublime  poetry  in  the  myth  of  Osiris.  When  darkness 
covers  the  shining  heavens  and  the  scattered  rays  of  the 
sun  are  quenched  in  the  gloomy  waters  of  the  river,  it  is 
the  effect  of  the  treason  of  Set,  who  has  attacked  Osiris, 
killed  him  and  scattered  his  members.  But  the  divine 
hero  is  not  destroyed.  With  the  dawn  he  returns  to  life 
in  his  son  Horus,  who  repeats  morning  by  morning  at 
sunrise  the  victory  over  the  deadly  serpent.  The  war  of 
light  against  darkness  recommences  a  few  hours  later,  and 
the  same  vicissitudes  are  repeated. 

Among  men,  the  conflict  assumes  an  altogether  different 
character.  Only  elect  souls  are  enlisted  in  this  triumphal 
warfare  :  and  even  those  to  whom  this  privilege  is  granted 
as  the  result  of  the  divine  judgment  upon  their  lives, 
are  not  obliged  to  exercise  it.  They  enter  upon  the 
blessed  life.  This  distinction  between  the  heavenly  and 
the  human  Osiris  seems  to  us,  as  we  have  said,  a  recogni- 
tion of  the  voice  of  conscience. 

Let  us  follow  the  soul  in  that  great  journey  beyond 
the  tomb  which  is  the  dominant  thought  of  the  Egyptians, 
by  asking  how  preparation  is  made  for  it  in  this  life. 

The  religion  of  Egypt  does  not  require  that  the  earthly 
life  should  be  crippled  by  extreme  asceticism.  Man — the 
son  of  Osiris,  the  god  of  life,  the  enemy  of  the  power  of 
sterility,  darkness  and  evil — is  to  do  battle  with  evil  along 
the  whole  line,  commencing  with  the  land  of  Egypt  itself, 
the  soil  of  which  must  be  saved  from  barrenness.  Hence 
the  religious  character  of  agricultural  labour.  To  make 
channels  for  irrigation,  to  sow  the  land,  to  secure  fine 
harvests,  to  propagate  domestic  animals,  is  to  do  a 
religious  act. 

The  gods  are  honoured  by  every  accession  to  the  power 
of  the  sacred  soil  and  every  triumph  over  its  enemies. 
Every  war,  whether  for  conquest  or  defence,   is  a  holy 


>^2    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

war.  Thus  the  Egyptian  king  is  the  highest  personifica- 
tion of  the  supreme  god.  He  is  the  earthly  Osiris  par 
excellence ;  his  power  knows  no  bounds,  he  is  the  object  of 
real  worship.  He  is  greater  than  a  high  priest ;  he  is  the 
representative  of  the  deity.  "  Thy  majesty,"  said  an  Egyp- 
tian to  his  king,  "  is  as  Horus  ;  the  power  of  thy  arm  extends 
over  all  lands."  "  The  god,"  he  adds,  in  speaking  of  his 
interview  with  the  king,  "  spoke  amicably  to  me.  I  was 
like  one  brought  out  of  the  darkness  into  the  light :  my 
tongue  was  dumb,  my  lips  refused  their  office,  my  heart 
was  no  longer  in  my  body,  so  that  I  knew  not  whether  I 
was  alive  or  dead."  ^  The  priesthood  gathered  around  the 
king  has  nothing  exclusive  about  it,  and  in  no  way 
resembles  a  hereditary  caste.  The  priests  are  taken  from 
among  the  nobility  without  any  fixed  rule.  There  is  no 
secret  doctrine  concealed  in  the  mystery  of  the  sanc- 
tuaries, from  all  but  the  initiated.  Any  one  who  desires  to 
search  into  the  depths  of  the  doctrine  may  do  so  without 
hindrance.  If  the  masses  of  the  people  fail  to  appre- 
hend the  mystery,  it  is  through  their  own  ignorance 
or  stupidity. 

No  man  is  profane  except  he  who  wills  to  be  so,  or 
rather  he  who  does  not  make  the  necessary  effort  to 
apprehend  the  true  meaning  of  the  symbol.  The  scribe, 
who  plays  so  large  a  part  in  Egyptian  society,  owes  his 
influence  solely  to  his  knowledge,  and  to  this  knowledge 
he  has  no  prescriptive  right.  No  one  holds  in  his  hands 
the  key  of  sacred  tradition,  and  has  the  right  to  conceal 
the  treasure  in  the  secresy  of  the  temple ;  but  there  is 
nothing  to  indicate  that  the  Egyptian  priests  tried  to 
enlighten  their  fellow-countrymen.  They  did  not  interdict 
the  knowledge  of  the  holy,  but  they  did  nothing  to  impart 
it  to  the  common  people,  who  thus  remained  in  gross 
ignorance  of  the  meaning  of  the  symbols. 

The  result  was  very  harmful,  for  the  symbols  were 
often  as  gross  as  the  idea  of  the  deity  was  high  and 
abstract.  It  would  have  been  deemed  a  want  of  respect 
to  give  him  a  human  form,  which  would  have  brought 
him    too    near    his   worshippers.       Egypt    would    have 

•  Tide,  p.  105. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  EGYPT.  73 

shuddered  with  horror  at  the  Greek  Olympus  with  its 
divinities,  which  were  at  first  only  idealised  heroes  and 
charming  women.  It  preferred  to  borrow  from  nature  a 
confused  and  even  gross  symbolism  to  express  the  attri- 
butes of  its  gods.  Hence  the  predominance  of  animal 
types.  In  hymns  to  the  sun-god  he  is  apostrophised  as 
the  sparrowhawk,  the  lion  and  the  bull.  The  blending 
of  animal  and  human  forms  in  the  statues  of  Egypt 
forbade  any  presumptuous  assimilation.  The  goat  and 
the  ram  represented  the  force  of  reproduction,  and  sym- 
bolised the  creator-god.  The  number  of  sacred  animals 
to  which  worship  was  paid  was  very  large.  The  ibis  and 
the  dog-headed  ape  (cynocephalus)  were  sacred  to  Thot ; 
the  jackal  was  dedicated  to  Anubis,  the  sparrowhawk  to 
Horus,  the  cat  to  Pasht.^ 

The  living  animals  which  were  worshipped  formed  a 
separate  and  privileged  class  in  the  temples.  When  we 
see  the  care  with  which  the  bull  Apis,  the  living  image  of 
the  sun-god,  was  chosen,  according  to  special  signs,  the 
chief  of  which  was  a  disc  of  gold  visible  between  the 
horns  ;  when  we  remember  the  veneration  with  which 
these  sacred  animals  were  tended  and  fed  by  the  priests, 
we  cannot  fail  to  recognise  in  them  a  sort  of  special 
incarnation  of  the  higher  divinities.  This  is  a  relic  of 
the  animal  fetishism  of  ancient  times,  to  which  the  igno- 
rant multitude  still  clung,  or  at  least  which  still  con- 
tinued to  blend  with  their  dim  perceptions  of  something 
higher.  We  know  that  the  bull  Apis  was  sacrificed  at 
a  certain  age,  and  that  a  tomb  was  reserved  for  him  in 
the  great  necropolis  which  Mariette  exhumed  from  the 
sands  of  the  Sahara,  that  magnificent  serapeum,  covered 
with  symbolic  paintings,  which  is  the  true  catacomb  of 
Egypt. 

The  religious  celebrations  were  chiefly  festivals  com- 
memorative of  the  history  of  the  god,  and  the  splendour 
of  the  temples  was  reserved  for  the  princes  and  the 
priests.  The  people  remained  in  the  outer  court.  Upon 
the  walls  they  read  the  pictured  story  of  their  own  life 
and  the   history  of  their  gods.       Each    Egyptian   would 

'  Tielc,  p.  58. 


74    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

seem  to  have  had  his  own  particular  chapel  where  he 
performed  his  religious  duties.^  The  worship  consisted 
of  the  recitation  of  sacred  formularies,  and  the  sacrifices 
do  not  seem  to  have  been  offered  with  any  idea  of  atone- 
ment, but  to  minister  to  the  wants  of  the  spirits  in 
Hades. 

The  true  sanctuaries  of  Egypt  were  its  cities  of  the 
dead.  Each  tomb  consisted  of  three  parts — a  portico 
or  peristyle,  a  well,  and  a  chapel  where  the  remains  of 
the  deceased  were  laid.  It  must  not  be  supposed  how- 
ever that  the  importance  attached  to  these  monuments  of 
the  dead,  lent  a  character  of  sombre  sadness  to  the 
country.  The  idea  which  the  Egyptian  formed  of  the 
future  life  of  those  who  obtained  it  as  a  reward,  was  in 
no  way  vague  or  abstract.  The  country  of  the  dead  was 
not  shrouded  in  mysterious  shadow.  Not  only  was  it 
enlightened  with  all  the  glory  of  the  sun,  but  it  was  also 
the  continuation  on  a  grander  and  higher  scale  of  the 
familiar  earthly  life.  The  terrible  ordeals,  the  stern  con- 
flicts, which  had  to  be  passed  through,  were  but  a  repeti- 
tion of  the  holy  wars  in  which  Egypt  gloried.  It  was 
•understood,  moreover,  that  men  were  not  left  to  fight 
alone  the  battles  of  the  future  life,  and  that  if  the  com- 
batant came  out  victorious,  he  would  be  introduced  into 
the  "  choir  invisible"  of  spirits  divinely  illuminated. 

Nothing  can  show  more  clearly  how  death  was  re- 
garded by  the  Egyptians  as  merely  a  phase  of  life,  than 
these  words  addressed  to  a  dead  man  on  the  day  of  his 
obsequies. 

"  The  joy  of  Amun  is  in  thy  heart ;  thy  members 
are  intact.  Mounted  on  thy  two-horsed  chariot,  thou 
goest  up  on  to  thy  bark  of  cedar,  and  thou  comest  to 
the  excellent  abode  which  thou  hast  made  for  thyself 
(the  tomb).  Thy  mouth  is  filled  with  wine  and  bread 
and  meat.  Beasts  are  sacrificed,  amphorae  are  opened. 
Sweet  songs  are  sung  before  thee.  Thy  chief  perfumer 
anoints  thee  with  essences.  Thy  controller  of  the 
waters  is  wreathed  with  garlands.  Thine  intendant  brings 
thee  geese.     Thy  fisherman   offers  thee   fish.     Thou  art 

'  Tide,  p.  115. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  EGYPT.  75 

established  and  thine  enemy  is  overthrown.  All  that  was 
said  against  thee  is  blotted  out ;  thou  standest  before  the 
cycle  of  the  gods,  and  comest  forth  acquitted."  ^ 

Let  us  follow  the  soul  through  the  vicissitudes  of  this 
its  great  journey.  The  body,  under  the  form  of  a  mummy, 
is  placed  in  the  chapel  of  the  dead,  after  undergoing  the 
preparation  which  is  to  preserve  it  from  dissolution,  so 
that  the  soul  may  resume  it  intact  in  the  consummation 
of  all  things.  The  sacred  formularies  contained  in  the 
"  Book  of  the  Dead "  are  placed  beside  the  corpse  as  a 
talisman  against  evil.  ''  He  who  knows  this  book,"  says  a 
sarcophagus  of  the  eleventh  dynasty,  ^  is  one  who  in  the 
day  of  resurrection  in  the  under-world,  arises  and  enters 
in  ;  but  if  he  does  not  know  this  chapter  he  does  not 
enter  in  so  soon  as  he  arises."  The  close  of  the  first 
chapter  is  as  follows  :  '*  If  a  man  knows  this  book 
thoroughly  and  has  it  inscribed  upon  his  sarcophagus,  he 
will  be  manifested  in  the  day,  in  all  (the  forms)  that  he 
may  desire,  and  entering  into  his  abode  will  not  be  turned 
back."  2 

The  "  Book  of  the  Dead  "  is  as  explicit  as  possible  on 
the  importance  of  preserving  the  body  intact.  The  soul 
was  supposed  to  sleep  or  become  extinct  during  the  forty 
days  that  were  occupied  in  the  process  of  embalming. 
It  then  revived  and  was  again  joined  to  the  body.  This 
blessing  is  prayed  for  in  the  following  passage  :  "  O  ye 
liberators   of  the    souls    of   them    that    are    built    into    a 

house  of  Osiris  {i.e.  mummified),  liberate  the  soul  of 

whom  ye  have  made  a  house  of  Osiris.  He  sees  as  ye 
see,  he  hears  as  ye  hear,  he  stands  as  ye  stand,  he  sits  as 
ye  sit."^ 

While  the  body  lies  in  its  house  of  repose  the  liberated 
soul  wanders  through  space.  It  has  escaped  through  the 
opening  left  in  the  tomb  toward  the  sacred  East.  It 
enters  the  bark  of  Osiris  to  gain  the  shore  where  its 
great  ordeals  are  to  commence.  The  great  god  Osiris 
is   in   the   bark  and  slays  the   enemies  of  the  deceased. 

'  Maspero,  "  Etudes  sur  quelques  pcintures  et  quelques  textes  rclalives 
aux  funerailles  "  (Paris  1882.     Imprimerie  nationale). 
^  Tide,  p.  25. 
*  Osburn,  "  Monumental  History  of  Egypt,"  vol.  i. ,  p.  427, 


76    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

Carried  onward  by  a  favouring  wind,  the  bark  reaches  the 
port.     Horus  shakes  his  lance,  and  all  the  gods  rejoice. 

Before  entering  on  the  final  ordeal,  the  soul  undergoes 
a  preliminary  trial.  If  this  is  unfavourable,  the  mind 
remains  in  the  soul,  but  only  to  torment  it  with  avenging 
fury.  It  enters  a  new  body,  which  is  to  be  its  torture 
chamber,  and  from  which  is  to  be  plunged  again  into 
nothingness.  The  Egyptians  recognised  a  sort  of  hell  in 
which  the  guilty  soul  was  to  be  long  tormented  before  its 
final  destruction.  If  the  judgment  was  favourable,  the 
soul  resumed  its  members  one  by  one,  and  was  united  to 
its  mummy.  It  then  descends  into  the  fields  of  Aahlou, 
where  it  finds  a  sort  of  subterranean  Egypt.  Here  it 
resum.es  its  past  life,  but  idealised  and  glorified.  It 
labours  and  tills  the  heavenly  fields  with  the  assistance  of 
helpers,  which  are  represented  by  the  little  figures  placed 
in  the  tomb.  "  If  this  Osiris  (so  the  dead  man  is  described), 
is  judged  worthy  to  fulfil  in  this  lower  region  of  the  divine, 
all  the  labours  there  required,  then  every  evil  principle  is 
taken  away  from  him."^  The  soul  is  already  united  to  its 
god,  and  it  is  with  his  aid  that  it  enters  on  the  final 
conflicts  with  the  terrible  monsters  at  the  fifteen  gates  of 
the  Elysian  fields  through  which  it  has  to  pass. 

When  it  comes  out  victorious  from  this  last  ordeal,  the 
mind  is  reunited  with  it,  and  it  resumes  the  body  which 
has  been  awaiting  it  in  the  form  of  a  mummy. 

The  human  being  is  thus  reconstituted  in  all  its  elements. 
Flooded  with  celestial  glory,  man  is  a  god  among  the  gods, 
and  becomes  in  the  end  a  pure  intellect  which  sees  God 
and  is  absorbed  in  him.^ 

By  the  aid  of  valuable  texts  recently  translated,  this 
funeral  drama  is  made  so  vivid  to  us  that  we  feel  almost 
as  if  we  had  been  eye  witnesses  of  it,  and  as  if  our  own 
hearts  had  been  thrilled  by  its  imposing  ceremonies.  "  The 
rites  of  burial,"  says  M.  Maspero,  "were  conducted  in 
such  a  manner  as  graphically  to  portray  the  vicissitudes 
of  the  passage  of  the  deceased  into  the  other  life.  For 
eighty  days  the  surgeons,  carpenters,  weavers,  sculptors, 

'  "Livre  des  Morts,"  c.  6,  1.  i. 

*  Maspero,  "  Etudes  sur  quelques  peintures,"  p.  84. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  EGYPT.  77 

were  incessantly  at  work.  The  mummy  was  conducted, 
with  great  pomp,  to  its  last  earthly  abode.  Slaves  bearing 
ofTerings  went  in  front  of  the  procession.  They  carried 
what  might  be  described  as  the  funeral  apparatus,  includ- 
ing the  amulets.  Next  came  the  hired  mourners,  men 
and  women.  Their  plaint  is  thus  rendered  upon  the  sides 
of  the  hypogeum  of  a  king  of  Thebes.  "  To  the  west  the 
most  excellent  one,  hater  of  lies  !  Tn  peace,  in  peace  to 
the  west !  O  excellent  traveller  from  earth  into  the 
eternal  country,  thou  hast  been  suddenly  snatched  away. 
O  thou  who  wast  surrounded  by  so  many,  behold  thee  now 
in  the  land  which  loves  solitude.  Thou  who  delightedst 
in  walking,  behold  thee  fettered,  bound  in  grave  clothes  ! 
Thou  who  lovedst  to  adorn  thyself,  thou  art  laid  down  in 
thy  garments  of  yesterday.  He  who  weeps  for  thee  follows 
thee  with  lamentation  and  mourning."  ^ 

The  officiating  priest  went  before  the  bier  on  which 
the  mummy  was  laid,  surrounded  by  the  family  and 
friends.  "To  the  west,  O  oxen,  to  the  west,"  cried  the 
bearers.  A  flotilla  escorted  the  bark  which  carried  the 
deceased  over  to  the  western  bank  of  the  Nile.  "  O, 
sailors,"  exclaimed  the  widow,  "  do  not  hasten ;  leave  him 
to  me.  You,  you  will  come  back  to  your  homes  ;  but  he, 
he  goes  into  the  eternal  country.  O  bark  of  Osiris,  thou 
hast  crossed  over,  and  thou  art  come  to  take  awa}'-  from 
me  him  who  now  forsakes  me."^  The  dead  man  was  set 
upright  in  the  hypogeum.  A  funeral  feast  was  spread. 
The  priest  presented  the  offering  to  Osiris  with  libations, 
while  the  women  of  the  family  covered  the  bier  with  flowers, 
and  embraced  it,  exclaiming,  "  Leave  us  not ! "  "  He  Hves 
no  more,"  said  his  friends;  "the  worthy  man,  the  friend 
of  truth  who  never  uttered  a  lie.  To  the  west ;  to  the 
west ! "  ^  "  I  am  thy  sister,"  says  another  inscription, 
"  leave  me  not."  Dost  thou  mean  that  I  should  leave 
thee  ?  How  can  it  be  ?  If  I  go  away  thou  art  hence- 
forth alone.  O  thou  who  lovest  to  talk  with  me,  thou 
art  silent ;  thou  dost  speak  no  more." 

An  aged  female  slave  cries  out,  "  He  has  been  taken 
away  from  me  ;  the  master  forsakes  his  servants." 

'  Maspero,  p.  141.  *  Ibid.,  p.  134,  '  Ibid.,  p.  134. 


78     THE  ANCIENT  IVORLD  AND  CHRISTTANITY. 

The  last  rites  were  performed  by  the  son  in  the  depths  of 
the  vault.  All  these  successive  rites  were  depicted  upon 
the  walls  of  the  h3'pogeum.  On  it  were  also  represented 
the  little  figures  designed  to  assist  the  deceased  in  the 
fields  of  Aahlou. 

The  following  incrription  is  written  under  the  repre- 
sentation of  a  bark  conveying  the  mummy  to  Abydos : 
"  Cross  in  peace  to  Abydos,  to  follow  Osiris.  The  great 
chief  is  with  you.  To  the  west,  to  the  west,  the  land 
of  the  just,  O  thou  who  goest  away  safe  and  sound,  the 
favourite  of  thy  master,  thou  against  whom  nothing  has 
been  found.  O  Osiris,  grant  him  a  gentle  breeze.  May 
he  be  among  those  who  are  to  be  praised  in  the  land  of 
the  living  ! " 

The  many  inscriptions  which  were  placed  upon  the 
funeral  bark  show  clearly  that  it  was  meant  to  represent 
the  very  bark  of  Osiris,  in  which  the  deceased  made  the 
great  voyage.  He  is  represented  standing  in  his  cabin, 
commanding  the  ship.  In  an  inscription,  entitled  :  "  The 
Chapter  of  the  Book  of  the  Dead,"  Nu  says  to  Maut,  to 
Set,  to  Osiris,  to  Hathor,  the  gods  who  are  in  the  lower 

world,  that  they  should  lend  sails  to  Osiris  N (that 

is  to  the   dead  man   who  is  identified  with  Osiris)  and 
should  protect  him  evermore.^ 

The  great  voyage  begins  at  Abydos,  but  this  does  not 
imply  that  the  body  must  necessarily  be  buried  there. 
After  the  celebration  of  the  obsequies  at  Thebes  upon 
the  western  bank  of  the  river,  it  suffices  to  place  a  stela 
at  Abydos.^ 

The  deceased  is  represented  as  frozen  with  fear 
in  the  prospect  of  the  conflict  which  awaits  him.  It 
wrings  from  him  cries  of  sorrow  which  are  reproduced 
upon  his  tomb  :  "  Back,  O  crocodile,  back,  O  thou  that 
keepest  me  from  reaching  the  shore.^  The  deceased 
trembles  at  the  thought  of  the  seven  evil  genii  which  on 
the  day  of  judgment  cut  ofT  the  head  of  the  condemned 
and  tear  out  his  entrails. 


*  Maspero,  p.  131. 

*  Ibid.,  p.  126. 

*  "  Livre  des  Morts,"  c.  31,  1.  i. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  EGYPT.  -9 

In  order  to  escape  these  perils,  the  funeral  rites  must 
be  multiplied.  "  I  hve,"  says  the  deceased,  "  by  the  offer- 
ings made  to  Osiris."  When  these  have  been  presented 
according  to  the  prescribed  rites,  he  exclaims  triumph- 
antly :  1  am  Horus,  son  of  Isis ;  I  come  to  see  my  father 
Osiris.  '*  I  am  Ra ! "  "I  begin  life  again  after  death, 
as  the  sun  does  each  morning."  ^ 

Talismans  and  magic  arts  are  not  disdained,  as  is  shown 
by  many  plates  in  the  "  Book  of  the  Dead."  One  of  these 
represents  on  a  large  scale  the  judgment  of  souls.  We 
are  in  the  great  hall  of  the  supreme  tribunal.  It  is 
supported  by  columns  with  capitals  of  lotus  leaf.  Between 
the  sixth  and  seventh  column,  the  sun-god  Shu  (the 
principle  of  light  and  heat)  stretches  out  his  arms  above 
two  sacred  eyes  symbolising  North  and  South.  This  is 
an  allusion  to  the  daily  course  of  tlie  sun,  which  is  a 
promise  of  the  resurrection.  At  the  two  extremities  of 
this  row  of  capitals,  a  monkey  holds  the  scales,  a  symbol 
of  the  judgment  by  which  actions  are  weighed.  Below 
the  frieze  appear  the  forty-two  accusing  spirits,  "  the 
assessors  "  of  Osiris,  "  with  their  knives  ready  to  inflict 
torments  on  those  who  fail  in  the  balance."  The  deceased 
on  his  knees  pleads  the  purity  of  his  life.  Osiris,  seated 
in  a  central  chapel  before  an  altar  laden  with  offerings, 
presides  over  the  assembly. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  hall  is  seen  another  dead  man, 
introduced  by  the  goddess  of  truth.  "  I  present  myself," 
he  says,  "  before  the  lord  of  eternity.  There  is  no  evil 
in  me.  Hail  to  thee,  O  god,  who  art  the  good.  Lord 
of  Abydos,  grant  that  I  may  pass  safely  through  the  dark 
way,  and  join  thy  servants  in  the  fields  of  Aahlou." 
Horus  and  Anubis  weigh  in  scales  the  heart  of  the  man, 
which  ought  to  balance  the  image  of  truth.  If  this  con- 
dition is  fulfilled,  Thot,  the  sacred  scribe,  registers  the 
sentence,  and  adds :  "  Let  the  heart  be  restored  to  its 
place  in  the  person  of  Osiris."  This  is  the  signal  for  the 
resurrection  of  the  mummy.  This  now  becomes  the 
purified  vesture  of  the  soul,  which  enters  on  the  final 
conflict  before  its  supreme  beatitude. 

'  "Livre  des  Morts,"  c.    37,  1.  2;  c.  38,  I.  4;  c.  39,  1.  2, 


So    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AAW  CTIRISTIANITY. 

The  identification  with  the  gods  is  expressed  with 
singular  audacity.  "  I  am  Osiris  ;  I  am  Horus  ;  I  am 
Anubis,"  says  the  deceased.  "  I  take  my  flight  among 
the  gods.  I  change  myself  into  a  swallow,  a  serpent, 
a  crocodile,  a  phoenix."  ^  These  animals  represent  the 
various  aspects  of  the  sun-god.  In  his  song  of 
triumph  he  likens  himself  to  all  the  gods  whose  members 
are  made  those  of  his  own  bod3^  "  My  hair  is  like  that 
of  Nu  (the  firmament)  ;  my  face  is  like  that  of  Ra  (the 
sun)  ;  my  eyes  are  like  those  of  Hathor  (the  Egyptian 
Venus),"  and  so  on.^  "  I  am  the  seed  of  the  gods." 
"  My  dwelling  is  eternity,  the  very  estate  of  the  lord  of 
the  years,  the  ruler  of  eternity." 

Assuredly  such  a  religion  was  not  wanting  in  grandeur ; 
the  life  of  a  great  people  could  be  nurtured  by  it. 
The  moral  law  had  its  sanction  beyond  this  life,  alike 
for  the  king  and  the  meanest  of  his  subjects.  The  State 
rested  upon  a  solid  basis.  The  family  had  its  moral 
bond,  and  there  is  something  grand  in  the  spectacle  of 
this  grave  and  mystical  land  of  Egypt,  on  the  banks  of  the 
Nile — the  symbol  to  it  of  the  mysterious  river  which  bore 
away  the  bark  containing  its  beloved  ones.  In  every 
sun  which  set  to  rise  again,  it  saw  the  certain  prophecy 
of  the  resurrection  of  its  dead,  and  gazed  upon  the 
purple  west  with  a  look  full  of  hope,  profoundly  believing 
that  the  crown  of  immortality  would  encircle  the  brow 
of  the  just.  It  well  justified  the  saying  of  Diodorus 
Siculus  :  "  The  Egyptians  call  the  dwellings  of  the  living 
inns,  because  in  them  they  live  but  a  short  time ;  the 
tombs  of  the  dead  however  they  call  eternal  abodes, 
since  in  Hades  they  continue  to  live  on  in  a  limitless 
eternity."  ^ 

The  Egyptian  religion  breathes  throughout  a  lofty 
morality.  Before  we  seek  for  the  highest  expression  of 
this  in  the  "  Book  of  the  Dead,"  we  may  draw  attention 
to  the  treatises  on  practical  morality  which  M.  Maspero 
has  analysed.  The  first  was  written  at  the  close  of  the 
fifth  dynasty.     After  enjoining  faithfulness  to  the  ancient 

'   "Livre  des  Morts,"  c.  8i,  83, 

''■  Lenormant,  "Ancient  History  of  the  East,"  p.  310. 

'  Tiele  p.  68. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  EGYPT.  8i 

traditions  of  the  country,  it  insists  upon  goodness  in  the 
family  relations.  "  Love  thy  wife  and  do  not  quarrel  with 
her,"  says  the  wise  man.  "  Cherish  her,  adorn  her ;  she 
is  the  luxury  of  thy  life.  Perfume  her,  make  her  glad,  as 
long  as  thou  livest ;  render  thyself  worthy  of  her  posses- 
sion.    Be  not  as  a  brute  to  her."^ 

The  maxims  of  the  scribe  Ani,  addressed  to  his  son,  are 
of  a  much  later  date,  and  rise  yet  higher.  Man,  according 
to  Ani,  ought  to  have  ever  present  with  him  the  thought 
of  death.  "  Set  before  thyself  a  life  of  unswerving  recti- 
tude, so  shalt  thou  prepare  for  thyself  a  fitting  grave  in 
the  valley  of  death.  The  messenger  of  death  is  already 
at  hand  to  take  thee  away.  Say  not :  I  am  still  a  child. 
Death  comes  alike  to  the  newborn  babe  and  to  the  old 
man.  Thy  first  duty  is  to  the  gods.  Give  thyself  to  the 
deity.  From  his  hand  comes  the  mortal  blow."  Next 
comes  the  obligation  to  respect  old  age,  and  to  love  the 
mother  who  bore  the  child  and  nursed  it  at  her  breast. 
The  study  of  science  ought  not  to  supersede  that  of 
chastity.  "  Beware,"  says  the  scribe  to  his  son,  "  of  the 
strange  woman  ;  she  is  as  deep  flowing  water  ;  her  wind- 
ings are  unknown.  Take  a  young  woman,  and  love  her 
with  patient  gentleness."  Generosity  to  the  poor,  with- 
out prodigality,  is  the  first  duty  of  the  rich.  "  Eat  not 
bread  in  the  presence  of  a  servant  who  stands  before  thee, 
without  offering  him  a  morsel.  There  is  peace  to  him 
who  acts  brotherly.  Speak  gently  to  the  stubborn.  A 
man  falls  through  his  tongue.  Beware,  not  to  bring  ruin 
upon  thyself.  Watch  not  from  thy  house  what  others  are 
doing,  and  receive  not  ill-gotten  gain.  A  man  must  learn 
to  be  content  with  his  lot.  Thou  hast  made  for  thyself  a 
well-watered  garden  ;  thou  hast  enclosed  thy  land  with 
hedges  ;  thou  hast  planted  rows  of  sycamores  ;  thou  fillest 
thy  hands  with  thine  own  flowers ;  yet  a  man  grows 
weary  of  all  this."  ^ 

The  same  benevolent  morality  is  inculcated  in  a  demotic 
papyrus  in  the  Louvre.  This  is  characterised  by  a 
beautiful  feeling  of  respect  and  consideration  for  the  weak. 
"  llltreat  not  thy  wife  whose  strength  is  less  than  thine 
own  ;  do  not  make  a  child  suffer  because  it  is  weak.     Do 

'  Maspero,  "Papyrus  Priss.,"  x.,  9-10.  -  Ibid.,  p.  70. 

6 


82     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANHY. 


not    amuse    thyself    by    making    thy  dependants    afraid. 
Never  save  thy  life  at  the  expense  of  the  life  of  others." 

The  well-known  chapter  125,  in  the  "  Book  of  the  Dead," 
which  contains  the  pleading  of  the  soul  in  the  hour  of 
judgment,  is  the  crowning  expression  of  Egyptian  morality. 
"  I  know  you,"  says  the  soul  in  this  solemn  hour,  "  ye 
lords  of  truth  and  justice." 

"  1.   I  have  neither  done  any   sin,  nor  omitted    an} 
duty  to  any  man. 

have  committed  no  uncleanness. 

3.  I  have  not  prevaricated  at  the  seat  of  justice. 

4.  I  have  not  spoken  lightly. 

5.  I  have  done  no  shameful  thing. 

6.  I  have  not  omitted  certain  ceremonies. 

7.  I  have  not  blasphemed  with  my  mouth, 
have  not  perverted  justice. 

9.   1  have  not  acted  perversely. 

10.  I  have  not  shortened  the  cubit. 

11.  I  have  not  done  that  which  is  abominable  to  the 
gods. 

12.  I  have  not  sulhed  my  own  purity. 

13.  I  have  not  made  men  to  hunger. 

14.  I  have  not  made  men  to  weep. 

15.  I  have  done  no  act  of  rapine. 

16.  I  have  not  accused  of  rapine  falsely. 

17.  I  have  not  revived  an  ancient  falsehood  before  the 
face  of  men. 


26. 
27. 

28. 

29. 
30. 

31- 

32. 


have  not  falsified  the  weights  of  the  balance, 
have  not  withheld  milk  from  the  mouth  of  the 

infants. 

have    not  driven   away    the  flocks    from   their 

pasturage, 
have  not  netted  the  ducks  (of  the  Nile)  illegally. 

have    not    caught    the    fishes    (of  the    Nile) 

illegally. 

have  not  (unlawfully)  pierced  the  bank  of  the 

river  when  it  was  increasing. 

have  not    separated  for  myself  (clandestinely) 

a  channel  (arm)  from  the  river  when  it  was 

subsiding. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  EGYPT.  83 


33.  I   have    not  extinguished    the    perpetual    (hourly 

lamp). 

34.  I  have  not  added  anything  to  any  of  the  sacred 

books. 

35.  I  have  not  driven  off  any  of  the  sacred  cattle. 

36.  I  have  not  stabbed  the  god  (sacred  animal)  when 

he  comes  forth  (from  his  shrine.)"  ^ 
It   would    be  easy  to   show   how    this   chapter   of  the 
"  Book  of  the  Dead"  includes  all  the  moral  precepts  of 
the    decalogue.     The  difference   lies    in  the  spirit.     The 
reader  must  have  remarked  that  in  this  moral  code,  the 
most  minute    observances    are  put  upon  the    same  level 
with    the    fulfilment  of  the  divine    law   in    its    universal 
principles.     Morality  was  indeed    closely  bound  up  with 
the  religion  of  Egypt.     In  his  second  pleading  with  the 
forty-two  avengers  the  deceased  goes  on  to  urge  : 
"  I  have  not  lied.  .  .  . 
I  have  not  been  a  listener. 
I  have  not  been  a  babbler. 
I  have  not  made  a  fool  of  any  one. 

*  *  *  *  • 

I  have  done  no  violence. 

I  have  reviled  no  one. 

I  have  not  put  forth  my  arm  to  do  wrong. 

I  have  not  oppressed  the  weak. 

I  have  not  devised  the  overthrow  (of  others)  in  my 

heart. 

***** 

I  have  not  reviled  the  face  of  the  king ;  neither  have  I 

reviled  the  face  of  my  father. 
I  have  not  uttered  boasting  words. 
I  have  not  reviled  god."  ^ 
On  these  grounds  he  pleads  for  deliverance,  with  the 
gods  who  dwell  in  the  abode  of  truth  and  righteousness. 

In  the  funeral  inscriptions  belonging  to  the  Middle 
Kingdom,  there  are  touching  descriptions  of  true  kindness. 
"  No  little  child,"  says  one  monarch,  ''  was  vexed  by  me, 
no   widow   was   ill-treated,   no   fisherman   disturbed,    no 

'  Osburn,  "  Monumental  History  of  Egypt,"  vc).  i.,  pp.  430,  431. 
^  Ibid.,  p.  432. 


84     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

herdsman  obstructed.  There  is  no  pentarch  whose  men 
I  have  forced  to  do  labours.  I  made  the  inhabitants  hve, 
for  I  gave  to  them  of  the  fruits  of  the  land,  so  that  there 
were  no  famines  in  the  province." 

Another  says  :  "  I  gave  water  to  the  thirsty  ;  I  put  the 
traveller  on  his  way.  I  removed  the  oppressor,  and  put 
an  end  to  violence."  ^ 

It  is  true  that  the  same  inscription  celebrates  the 
terrible  vengeance  executed  by  a  governor  upon  his 
enemies,  whose  houses  he  sacked  and  slew  the  women. 
Nor  must  we  forget  how  opposed  the  magical  value 
attached  to  religious  rites  was  to  the  true  development  of 
the  moral  life.  The  fact  remains  however,  that  morality 
was  a  real  and  powerful  factor  in  the  land  of  the 
Pharaohs. 

And  yet  Egypt  lacked  in  every  department,  ahke  in 
art,  morals  and  rehgion,  that  lofty  idealism  which 
manifests  itself  not  so  much  in  results  obtained  as  in  the 
yearning  aspiration  after  the  unknown,  the  highest,  the 
purest,  the  best,  the  oasis  of  blue  in  a  cloudy  sky.  Egypt 
was  self-satisfied ;  it  might  be  called  the  Pharisaic  nation 
of  antiquity.  No  tearful  chant  or  wail  of  penitence  broke 
from  its  lips.  *'  I  am  clean  from  all  transgression "  is 
the  whole  burden  of  its  plea,  and  this  it  puts  into  the 
lips  of  its  best  representatives,  for  it  abandons  before- 
hand, as  victims  to  the  annihilation  of  the  tomb,  the 
wicked,  for  whom  there  is  no  pardon  or  restoration.  Like 
a  swarm  of  gnats  that  darken  for  a  few  hours  the  limpid 
clearness  of  the  atmosphere,  and  then  vanish  away,  so  the 
wicked  are  consigned  to  hopeless  destruction  after  the 
judgment.  This  judgment  is  only  the  final  award  in 
which  the  righteous  receives  his  recompense.  There  is 
no  place  then  for  cries  of  distress,  suppliant  prayers  and 
promises  of  amendment.  The  celestial  recorder  deter- 
mines what  is  due  to  each,  and  all  is  done.  Immortality 
does  not  necessarily  imply  a  transformation  of  the  whole 
being.  It  is  but  the  normal  development  of  the  present 
life  recommenced  after  certain  ordeals.  The  issue  is 
happiness  rather  than  holiness.  Delight  in  life,  we  are 
told,  is  a  special  characteristic  of  the  gods.     "  Osiris  re- 

'  Tiele,  p.  129. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  EGYPT.  85 

joices  in  living."^  The  traveller  who  has  laid  up  a  good 
store  of  strength,  sustenance  and  virtues,  is  sure  to  arrive 
at  a  good  end,  provided  that  upon  earth  his  body  is  pre- 
served and  nourished  in  the  tomb.  Everything  is  thus 
methodically  and  harmoniously  arranged.  Hence  Egypt 
knows  nothing  of  the  dark  despair  of  Buddhist  India, 
to  which  all  finite  being  seems  accursed.  Eg3'pt  takes 
duration  for  infinity  ;  the  life  beyond  the  grave  does  not 
essentially  differ  from  the  earthly  life,  except  in  its  last 
serene  absorption  in  the  absolute,  of  which  scarcely  any- 
thing is  said. 

Nor  did  the  Egyptian  look,  as  the  Semite  did,  for  the 
future  deliverer,  the  Saviour-hero  who  was  to  put  an  end 
to  an  imperfect  and  miserable  existence.  He  hoped  for  no 
Messiah.  He  knew  neither  seer  nor  prophet,  because  he 
was  satisfied  with  his  earthly  present,  on  the  one  condition 
that  it  should  be  perpetuated  to  all  eternity.  Nor  had  Egypt 
properly  speaking  any  philosophers,  searching  for  broader 
truth,  lifting  with  trembling  hand  the  veil  of  the  visible 
world  to  let  the  fuller  light  stream  in.  It  had  its  scribes 
who  recited  sacred  formularies,  and  this  sufficed.  Osiris 
never  speaks,  like  Prometheus,  of  a  mysterious  god  of  the 
future,  greater  than  those  of  the  present.  The  Egyptian 
priest  has  but  an  ill-defined  mission,  for  there  is  no  aton- 
ing virtue  in  the  sacrifices  which  he  offers.  They  are 
mere  acts  of  homage  or  means  of  reinforcing  the  strength 
of  the  celestial  combatants.  We  shall  show  presently 
how  deficient  Egypt  was  also  in  high  art. 

Such  is  the  State  religion  of  Egypt.  Imperfect  as  it 
is,  we  would  not  depreciate  its  real  greatness.  The  very 
conception  of  immortality  is  a  grand  factor,  even  though 
it  rise  but  little  above  the  ideal  of  the  actual  life.  A  still 
grander  thing  is  the  conception  of  law  and  responsibility, 
triumphing  over  the  fatalistic  principle  theoretically  im- 
plied in  the  Egyptian  theodicy.  The  great  error,  the 
great  defect  of  Egypt,  was  that  it  was  so  content  with 
what  it  had  received  that  it  did  not  crave  for  more. 
Hence  its  age-long  inimobility,  which  has  made  it  in  some 
respects  the  China  of  the  West.  It  had  nevertheless  its 
better  intuitions,  which  raised  it  above  itself     Sometimes 

'  "  Livre  dcs  Morts,"  c.  3,  1.  3,  4. 


86     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

its  conception  of  the  divinity  seems  to  grow  purer  and 
more  tender,  as  in  the  fragment  of  the  poem  of  the  scribe 
Pentaiira,  celebrating  a  victory  of  Rameses  11.  He  ex- 
claims :  "  Shouldest  thou  be  my  father,  O  Amun?  behold, 
and  should  a  father  forget  his  son  ?  Have  I  then  put  my 
trust  in  my  own  thoughts  ?  Have  I  not  walked  according 
to  the  word  of  thy  mouth  ?  Has  thy  mouth  not  directed 
my  marches  ?  and  have  thy  counsels  not  guided  me  ? 
Amun  will  bring  low  those  that  know  not  god."  In  the 
hour  of  peril,  the  prince  boasts  that  Amun  was  better  to 
him  than  millions  of  his  men  of  war.  "  The  snares  of 
men  are  nought.  Amun  will  overcome  them."  ^  Amun  is 
described  in  a  hymn  of  the  new  Empire,  as  the  "  greatest 
in  heaven,  the  oldest  upon  earth,  the  Lord  who  gives  to 
everything  existence  and  duration."  "  His  hands  give 
to  those  whom  he  loves,  but  his  enemy  he  casts  down  into 
the  fire,  for  his  look  annihilates  the  workers  of  iniquity, 
and  the  ocean  engulfs  the  wicked  whom  he  consumes." 
"  Thou  alone  existent,  the  creator  of  being."  **  In  thy 
rest,  thou  watchest  over  men,  and  considerest  what  is 
best  for  the  beasts.  ...  As  high  as  heaven,  as  wide 
stretching  as  the  earth,  as  deep  as  the  sea,  the  gods  fall 
down  before  thy  majesty,  extolling  the  spirit  of  him  who 
has  created  all  things.  .  .  .  Praise  to  thy  spirit  because 
thou  hast  made  us  ;  we  are  thy  creatures,  thou  hast  placed 
us  in  the  world."  ^ 

The  identification  of  man  with  his  god  in  his  passage 
through  the  ordeals  that  lie  beyond  the  grave,  is  an  idea 
full  of  grandeur,  though  it  is  but  a  logical  sequence  of  the 
pantheistic  conception  of  the  deity,  as  present  in  his 
completeness  in  each  of  his  manifestations.  From  a  purely 
ideal  point  of  view,  the  deceased  is  Osiris,  just  as  the  ray 
of  sunlight  is  the  sun  even  before  it  returns  to  its  central 
fire.  But  the  abstract  idea  is  lost  sight  of.  The  hope  of 
a  real  union  of  the  soul  with  the  beneficent  deity,  and  of 
its  consummation  in  him,  grows  up,  and  religious  feeling 
bridges  over  the  metaphysical  void.  This  god  who 
himself  enters  into  the  community  of  our  sufferings, 
speaks  to  the  heart  rather  than  to  the  mind.  When 
Osiris  says  to  the  suffering  creature,  that  since  he  himself 

*  Tide,  "Conip.  Religion,"  p.  152.  *  Ibid.,  p.  184. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  EGYPT.  87 

received  the  great  wound/  he  is  wounded  in  every  other 
wound,  the  soul  which  receives  this  saying  rises  higher 
and  goes  further  than  his  intellectual  pantheism  would 
logically  lead  him.  So  also  with  that  other  passage  in  the 
"  Book  of  the  Dead,"  in  which  the  god  takes  our  defilement 
on  himself  that  he  may  purge  it  away.  "When  the  lord 
of  truth  cleanses  away  defilement,  evil  is  joined  to  the 
deity,  that  the  truth  may  expel  the  evil  element.  The  god 
who  wounds  becomes  a  god  who  more  abundantly  comforts."^ 
These  closing  words  are  sublime,  one  of  those  lightning 
flashes  which  suddenly  illuminate  the  mysterious  _  depths 
of  human  life,  and  yet  leave  no  lasting  trace.  Life  goes 
on  in  its  accustomed  course  under  a  paler  light. 

From  a  moral  standpoint,  conscience  seems  to  lift 
itself  up  in  its  majesty,  throwing  off  the  heavy  burden  of 
hieratical  formularies  and  incantations  which  tend  to  lull 
it  to  sleep,  when  it  is  appealed  to  as  the  chief  witness 
whose  deposition  is  to  be  made  before  the  tribunal  of  final 
judgment :  "  O  heart,  heart,  which  comes  to  me  from  my 
mother,"  cries  the  deceased,  "heart  of  mine,  necessary  to  my 
existence  v/hen  I  was  upon  the  earth,  rise  not  up  as  a 
witness  against  me,  because  of  what  I  have  done  before 
the  gods  !  "^  Conscience  does  witness  against  him  how- 
ever, disturbing  the  Pharisaic  self-complacency  expressed  in 
the  proud  refrain  :  "  I  am  clean  ;  I  am  clean."  We  need 
no  clearer  proof  of  this  than  the  following  passages  from 
the  "  Book  of  the  Dead." 

"  All  these  blemishes  that  are  upon  me  are  the  things 
that  I  have  done  against  the  lord  of  eternity  from  the  day 
of  my  birth."  *  The  deceased  addresses  himself  in  these 
words  to  the  four  monkeys  seated  at  the  four  corners  of 
the  lake  of  fire  :  "  Take  from  me  all  defilement,  cleanse  me 
from  all  iniquity,  that  no  evil  may  cleave  to  me."  "  We 
take  away  thy  faults,"  reply  the  gods  thus  invoked,  "  we 
cleanse  thee  from  the  defilement  contracted  upon  earth  to 
thy  hurt.    We  purge  away  all  thy  remaining  impurities."  ^ 

'  The  reference  is  to  the  wound  inflicted  on  the  god  by  Set. 

*  "Livre  dcs  Morts,"  c.  14,  1.  3,  4. 

*  Ibid.,  c.  30,  1.  2. 

*  Ibid.,  c.  17,  1.  37, 

*  Ibid.,  c.  216, 1.  3-5. 


88     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

"  There  is  no  more  evil  in  me,"  exclaims  the  dead  man, 
"  nor  any  more  of  the  impurity  of  my  mother.  I  am 
delivered."  ^  These  words  seem  to  imply  the  idea  of  an 
original  stain  inherent  in  humanity. 

We  may  perhaps  find  a  trace  of  this  feeling  of  the 
general  corruption  of  man  in  the  fact  that  the  priest  is 
called  the  pure  man,  Ab.  This  brings  out  the  idea  which 
lies  at  the  basis  of  the  Jewish  priesthood,  that  in  order  to 
appear  before  God  there  must  be  exceptional  purity.  This 
sense  of  sin  however  never  becomes  the  dominant  idea  in 
the  Egyptian  religion,  for  it  never  leads  on  to  the  need  of 
reparation.     Man  purifies  himself. 

"  O  pure  ones,  O  great  ones,"  exclaims  the  one  who  is 
being  judged,  "  I  have  renounced  my  sin  ;  I  have  made 
good  my  faults  ;  1  have  cleansed  m3^self  from  the  im- 
purities that  clung  to  me  upon  earth."  It  is  evident  that 
the  intuitions  of  a  loftier,  more  searching  morality,  were  but 
transitory,  and  the  Egyptian  fell  back  in  the  end  upon  his 
old  religion,  pantheistic  in  theory,  austere  and  serious 
in  practice.  He  held  firmly  the  belief  in  a  retributive 
immortality,  but  ignored  those  strong  and  mysterious 
yearnings  in  which  the  soul  goes  forth  to  meet  the  future, 
and  which  wring  from  it  cries  of  pain  and  even  of  despair 
under  the  overwhelming  pressure  of  evil.  There  was  no 
land  where  the  unknown  God  had  fewer  worshippers  than 
in  Egypt. 

The  religion  of  Egypt  dwindles  down  pitiably  in  course 
of  time.  After  its  great  era,  we  find  the  pantheistic 
elements  predominating  almost  exclusively,  and  attaching 
themselves  to  the  great  feminine  deities  such  as  Isis, 
which  are  increasingly  regarded  as  mere  personifications  of 
nature.  We  know  what  a  fascination  the  worship  of  Isis 
exercised  in  the  decay  of  the  ancient  world.  Faith  in 
immortality  itself  grew  dim  under  the  Ptolemies,  as  appears 
from  these  lines,  otherwise  beautiful.  "  O  my  brother,  O 
my  friend,"  says  a  dead  woman,  "  cease  not  to  drink,  to 
eat,  to  drain  the  cup  of  joy,  to  love,  to  keep  the  feasts  ; 
follow  ever  thy  desire,  never  let  sorrow  fill  thine  heart  so 
long  as  thou  art  upon  earth  ;  for  Aahlou  is  the  land  of 
heavy  sleep  and  of  darkness,  a  dwelling  of  death  for  those 

'  "  Livre  dcs  Mcrts,"  c.  64,  1.  7. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  EGYPT.  89 

who  remain  in  it.  They  sleep  in  their  bodiless  form ; 
they  know  no  more  father  nor  mother,  nor  children.  Since 
I  have  been  in  this  country  I  weep  for  the  water  which 
springs  up  yonder.  I  weep  for  the  rising  of  the  Nile  that 
it  might  refresh  my  heart  in  its  sorrow,  for  here  dwells  the 
god  whose  name  is  All-death.  He  calls  all  the  world  to 
him,  and  all  the  world  comes,  to  submit  itself,  fearing  his 
wrath.  Little  recks  he  of  gods  or  men.  The  small  and 
the  great  are  both  alike  to  him.  Every  one  fears  to  pray 
to  him,  for  he  will  not  hear.  No  one  comes  to  praise  him, 
for  he  is  not  good  to  his  worshippers,  nor  does  he  regard 
any  offering  that  they  bring  him."  ^ 

This  marks  a  great  retrogression  from  the  religious 
type  of  Egypt  in  its  best  days.  Purely  secular  Egyptian 
literature  was  never  of  much  importance,  especially  as  com- 
pared with  Egyptian  art,  the  function  of  which  was  really 
priestly.  Apart  from  the  moral  treatises  which  we  have 
mentioned,  it  consists  of  a  few  tales  and  romances.  It 
is  a  sort  of  morality  in  action,  rudely  adorned  with  an 
element  of  the  marvellous,  but  without  any  true  develop- 
ment of  the  imagination  either  in  the  form  or  substance. 
The  theme  is  always  libertinism  and  its  punishment.  The 
heroes  of  these  escapades  belong  to  the  royal  race.  Thus 
there  arose  a  school  of  scandal  sometimes  verging  on 
buffoonery,  for  buffoonery  was  not  alien  to  this  serious 
race,  which  was  even  capable  of  caricature.^ 

It  was  in  art  properly  so  called  that  the  Egj-ptian 
realism  was  most  apparent.  Egyptian  art  combines  to 
an  extraordinary  degree,  largeness  of  dimension  with 
narrowness  of  inspiration.  It  represents  that  which  is  ; 
never  that  which  ought  to  be.  It  is  essentially  realistic, 
for  the  Egyptian  knows  nothing  higher  than  his  own 
civilisation  either  in  worship  or  belief.  If  there  is  any- 
thing noble  in  this  realistic  art,  it  is  because  the  reality 
itself  is  noble.  The  artist  magnifies  without  transfiguring 
or  embellishing  his  subject.  Ignoring  the  pursuit  of  the 
ideal,  he  preserves  the  serenity  which  is  a  trait  of  beauty ; 
but  under  all  its  diverse  forms — architecture,  sculpture 
painting,    literature — Egyptian    art    is    destitute    of   the 

•  Maspero,  p.  6t. 

'  Maspero   "  Ccr.tcs  fcpulaircs  de  I'iincienne  Egypt.''  Paris,  1881. 


90     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

poetic  insight  which  reveals  depth  of  distance  outlying 
the  near  horizon,  and  is  ever  suggesting  that  beyond  the 
things  that  are  seen  and  handled  and  felt,  there  is  an 
unseen  and  impalpable  something  which  informs  the 
material  Hke  a  living  soul. 

Egyptian  art  is  moreover  eminently  utilitarian.  Its 
mission  is  not  to  elevate  the  soul  and  glorify  the  gods, 
but  to  aid  in  the  performance  of  worship,  and  above  all 
to  promote  the  welfare  of  the  dead.  We  must  not  forget 
that  the  dead  derive  real  advantage  from  the  things  re- 
produced by  the  chisel  of  the  sculptor,  because  there  is 
in  this  reproduction  an  element  of  vitality. 

The  omnipotence  of  the  king,  which  enabled  him  to  dis- 
pose at  will  of  an  entire  nation,  rendered  possible  those 
huge  constructions  which  are  found  all  over  the  land 
of  Egypt,  and  chiefly  in  the  great  religious  centres.  They 
could  not  have  been  accomplished  without  the  levying 
of  whole  armies  of  workmen. 

The  peculiar  characteristic  of  the  Egyptian  monuments 
is  their  horizontal  extension.  No  soaring  spire  or  tower 
rises  from  the  midst  of  these  gigantic  edifices,  which  are 
all  connected  with  one  another.  They  are  marvellous  in 
their  massiveness,  but  they  are  dwarfed  and  low,  and  of  the 
earth  earthy.  The  idea  they  give  is  of  stability  and  endless 
duration.  They  look  all  the  heavier  because  they  are 
relieved  by  so  few  openings  to  let  in  the  light.  The  Egyp- 
tian temple  is  a  succession  of  gigantic  buildings  all  in 
connection.^  We  have  first  the  avenues  of  sphinxes,  mytho- 
logical lions  representing  the  sun.  These  avenues  lead  to 
gates  opening  upon  a  vast  enclosure,  in  which  one  or  more 
small  lakes  or  basins  have  been  hollowed  out  for  the 
passage  of  the  mystic  bark.  Then  come  the  "  pylons,  con- 
sisting of  a  tall  rectangular  doorway  flanked  on  either  hand 
by  a  pyramJdal  mass  rising  high  above  its  crown.  Both 
portal  and  towers  terminate  above  in  that  hollow  gorge 
which  forms  the  cornice  of  nearly  all  Egyptian  buildings. 
From  the  base  of  the  pylon  spring  those  vertical  masts 
from  whose  summits  many-coloured  streamers  flutter   in 


»  "  History  of  Ancient  Egyptian  Art,"  vol.  i.,  p.  333,  ei  seq.,  Perrot  and 
Chipiez. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  EGYPT.  gt 

the  sun."^  The  hall  of  assembly,  reserved  for  the  inferior 
clergy,  is  supported  by  eight  columns  ;  it  is  entered  through 
a  court.  Then  comes  the  sanctuary,  which  is  only  open 
to  the  King  and  the  superior  priests.  This  is  approached 
through  a  great  square  court  with  two  side  chapels. 

In  this  most  holy  place  are  kept  the  sacred  bark  and 
the  statue  of  the  god,  but  the  latter  is  often  replaced  by  a 
mere  symbol.  There  is  room  for  any  number  of  chapels 
in  the  circumference.  A  great  wall  encloses  all  these 
sacred  edifices.  This  arrangement  of  the  temple  is  ex- 
plained by  the  purpose  for  which  it  is  intended.  Being 
closed  to  the  people,  it  is  really  a  sort  of  huge  sacristy  into 
which  the  officiating  priests  go  to  fetch  the  sacred  objects 
designed  to  figure  in  the  processions  at  the  great  feasts. 
The  temple  is  primarily  the  monument  of  kingly  devotion. 
Thus  its  innumerable  bas  reliefs  always  represent  the 
offerings  of  the  king,  and  the  deliverances  wrought  for 
him  by  the  gods  in  his  victorious  wars.  They  contain 
the  monumental  archives  of  the  kingdom.  Hence  their 
lack  of  religious  elevation  ;  there  is  nothing  to  lift  the 
gaze  on  high,  no  altar,  nothing  to  suggest  a  sense  of  sin. 
There  is  neither  prayer  nor  sacrifice.  In  order  to  show 
that  it  is  the  abode  of  a  god,  his  statue  must  be  brought 
out  of  the  arcana  of  the  sanctuary  and  carried  in  proces- 
sion. Between  the  temple  and  the  palace  there  is  scarcely 
any  difference ;  in  both  there  is  the  same  horizontal  ex- 
tension, the  same  monotonous  grandeur.  The  Greek 
temple  is  not  open  any  more  than  the  Egyptian,  to  the 
nation  of  worshippers,  but  it  presents  to  the  eye  a 
harmonious  whole.  Its  outlines  are  so  described  that 
they  blend  in  a  shape  of  beauty.  It  impresses  on  the 
stone  or  the  marble  the  seal  of  a  prevailing  thought, 
because  the  genius  by  which  it  is  inspired  has  risen 
above  the  pantheistic  naturism,  which  is  capable  only 
of  reproducing  itself  in  a  multitude  of  objects,  never  of 
rising  above  them.  In  Greek  art  quality  is  more  than 
quantity ;  hence  the  Greek  temple  is  beautiful,  while  the 
Egyptian  temple  is  only  vast.  It  has  no  definite  propor- 
tions, and  may  be  prolonged  and  extended  just  according 
to  the  munificence  of  the  royal  benefactions.      It  makes 

'  Perrot  and  Chipitz,  "Ancient  Egyptian  Art,"  vol.  i.,  p.  341. 


92    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

no  attempt  at  unity  or  harmony  of  form.  The  true 
sanctuaries  of  Egypt  are  its  tombs.  Into  these  it  has 
thrown  all  its  religion.  Concern  for  the  preservation  of 
the  body  outweighs  all  aesthetic  considerations.  The 
mummy  is  placed  below  the  level  of  the  inundation,  and  is 
surrounded  by  the  garments  and  provisions  necessary  to 
its  future  existence.  Beside  it  are  the  little  figures  repre- 
senting its  future  helpers  in  the  fields  of  Aahlou.  The 
numerous  paintings  upon  the  walls  reproduce  all  that  was 
brilliant  in  the  earthly  life  of  the  dead  man,  with  a  view 
to  perpetuating  it.  Just  as  the  Egyptian  has  his  town 
house  and  his  country  house,  so  he  has  his  dwelling  for 
the  dead  made  to  resemble  as  closely  as  possible  the 
earthly  home.  There  is  nothing  to  suggest  the  great 
change  wrought  by  death,  least  of  all  its  awful  solemnity. 
The  statue  of  the  dead  man  not  only  perpetuates  his  image, 
but  to  some  extent  his  actual  personality,  for  it  may  take 
the  place  of  the  mummy  should  that  be  destroyed.  There 
are  stelae  representing  the  sacrifices  offered  for  the  dead 
man.  Each  tomb  has  its  vestibule  designed  for  the  meals 
of  the  dead,  and  its  well  and  cellar  attached  to  the  mor- 
tuary chapel.  The  temple  was  originally  the  mere  ex- 
tension of  the  royal  tomb.  The  pyramid  is  only  the 
largest  of  tombs.  It  is,  so  to  speak,  the  colossal  shrine 
of  the  dead.  The  obelisk  distinguishes  great  places  of 
burial. 

We  have  already  spoken  of  the  significance  attached  to 
sculptures  in  the  Egyptian  funeral  rites.  It  was  of  the 
first  importance  that  the  sculptured  figure  should  be  a 
faithful  representation  of  the  deceased,  hence  there  was  no 
scope  for  idealisation.  The  aim  was  to  produce  an  exact 
likeness,  and  the  human  physiognomy  was  rendered  with 
admirable  precision.  The  statues  of  the  gods  being 
hidden  from  the  sight  of  the  people  in  the  arcana  of  the 
temple,  the  sculptor  had  no  motive  for  making  them  works 
of  art.  The  blending  of  human  and  animal  types  was 
moreover  wholly  incompatible  with  harmonious  beauty  of 
form.  The  majestic  sphinx  of  Ghizeh  is  perhaps  an 
exception.  There  is  in  its  mournful  look  a  mysterious 
pathos  which  seems  to  suggest  the  great  unknown  lying 
beyond  the  desert.     The  sphinx  is  a  Hon  with  the  head 


THE  RELIGION  OF  EGYPI.  93 

of  a  sparrowhawk,  a  goat  or  a  man.  It  represents  the 
rising  sun,  for  the  lion  stands  for  the  sun  according  to 
this  passage  in  the  "  Book  of  the  Dead"  :  "  Hail  to  thee, 
O  hon  doubly  strong,  who  liftest  on  high  thy  double 
plume,  lord  of  the  diadem,  who  rulest  by  the  lash,  thou 
art  the  vigorous  male  who  puttest  forth  thy  beams  of 
light."^  When  the  lion  has  the  head  of  a  man  he  repre- 
sents Pharaoh. 

The  importance  attached  to  animals  in  the  religion  of 
Egypt  did  much  to  perfect  their  representation,  which  is 
often  admirable.  The  archaeological  value  of  the  paintings, 
which  make  the  whole  life  of  the  Egyptian  soldier  or 
field  labourer  pass  before  our  eyes,  is  much  greater  than 
their  artistic  merit.  The  abstract  character  of  Egyptian 
art,  with  its  tendency  to  generalise  rather  than  to  go  into 
detail,  is  little  adapted  to  the  picturesque  or  to  the  repro- 
duction of  actual  life.  What  it  did  express  most  forcibly 
was  the  idea  of  stability,  of  boundless  duration.  It  was 
in  this  respect  the  faithful  interpreter  of  the  master 
thought  of  Egypt,  which  abhorred  nothing  so  much  as 
destruction,  and  was  far  more  anxious  to  have  life  inde- 
finitely prolonged  than  raised  to  an  ideal  perfection. 

'  "Livre  des  Morts,"  c.  162,  1.  i. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE  RELIGION  OF  PH(ENICIA} 

THE  Phoenician  religion  is  greatly  inferior  to  the 
religion  of  Egypt.  It  has  neither  the  same  originality, 
the  same  rich  symbolism,  nor  the  same  high  moral  tone. 
We  find  in  it  the  same  naturism,  the  same  elementary 
pantheism,  but  we  miss  the  eager  gaze  fixed  on  the 
regions  beyond  the  grave,  that  mysterious  land  of  the 
West,  whence,  hke  the  setting  sun,  everything  comes  forth 
to  live  again.  As  has  been  well  said,  it  borrowed  its  gods 
from  Chaldea,  and  only  dressed  them  up  after  the  Egyptian 

'  See  M.  Ph.  Berger's  excellent  article  in  the  "  Encjxlopedie  Lichten- 
berger";  Renan,  "Mission  de  Phenicie,"  1S64;  Movers  "  Die  Phcenicier," 
a  book  still  of  importance  though  somewhat  superseded  ;  Perrot  and 
Chipiez,  "History  of  Ancient  Phoenician  Art,"  vol.  iii. ;  Tiele,  "Compara- 
tive History  of  the  Egyptian  and  Mesopotamian  Religions  ;  "  Maspero, 
"  Histoire  ancienne  de  rc3rient."  The  only  complete  piece  of  Phoenician 
literature  is  found  in  the  fragments  of  Sanchoniathon's  Cosmogony.  It 
is  a  mistake  to  deny  that  such  an  author  ever  existed,  but  his  work  has 
been  much  manipulated  by  Philo  of  Byblos,  who  pretends  to  translate 
him.  Eusebius,  in  his  "  De  Praep.  Evan.,"  gives  many  extracts  from 
"Sanchoniathon."  His  work  is  evidently  a  distortion  of  Genesis,  in 
which,  after  the  manner  of  the  Gnostics,  abstractions  are  transformed 
into  divine  hypostases,  linked  together  by  a  sort  of  genealogy  of  emana- 
tions. We  feel  sure  that  the  description  of  the  creation  and  of  the  forma- 
tion of  Adam  by  the  supreme  God,  must  have  come  out  of  Genesis,  as 
also  the  vague  reminiscence  of  the  mythical  trees  of  the  Garden  of  Eden 
and  the  rivalry  between  Esau  and  Jacob.  It  is  easy  to  see  what  is 
borrowed  from  the  traditions  of  Egypt  and  Chaldea.  Perhaps  the  author 
has  reproduced  with  considerable  modification  what  he  had  seen  upon 
the  Phoenician  tablets.  In  this  way  we  are  carried  back  to  the  same 
historic  basis  which  we  found  in  Chaldea,  and  which  constituted  the 
most  ancient  tradition  of  the  Asiatic  East.  Sanchoniathon  strangely 
degrades  the  myth  of  Adonis  under  the  influence  of  Greek  euhemerism. 
His  book,  which  is  of  the  date  of  the  Seleucidae,  has  no  order  in  it,  for  it 
reproduces  pellmell  the  cosmologies  of  the  various  Phoenician  towns. 
On  this  subject  see  M.  Renan's  very  interesting  arlrcle  in  the  "Journal 
des  Savans  "  vol.  xxiii.,  18S3,  p.  24. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  PHCENICIA.  95 

pattern,  allowing  them  but  a  very  restricted  and  almost 
entirely  earthboimd  horizon.  Phoenicia  had  however  a 
considerable  influence  over  the  development  of  the  ancient 
world,  because  it  was  the  first  to  set  sail  on  the  broad 
ocean,  and  by  its  daring  navigators  it  carried  Eastern 
ideas  throughout  all  the  coasts  of  the  Mediterranean.  It 
gave  to  Greece  the  first  elements  of  her  mythology,  on 
which  she  quickly  set  her  own  impress,  and  which  she 
transformed  according  to  her  own  ideal,  as  soon  as  she 
became  a  nation. 

It  is  to  Phoenicia,  moreover,  that  we  owe  the  invention 
of  the  alphabet,  which  by  substituting  for  the  ideographic 
signs  of  the  demotic  writing  of  Egypt,  letters  representing 
sounds,  created  the  most  subtle  instrument  by  which  lan- 
guage could  be  fixed  and  transmitted.  This  discovery 
was  more  important  to  the  ancients  than  that  of  printing 
to  the  modern  world. 

The  origin  of  the  Phoenicians  raises  an  ethnographical 
problem  difficult  to  solve.  Must  we  accept  Herodotus' 
statement,  that  they  came  from  the  Persian  Gulf  and 
belonged  to  the  Cushite  race  ?  or  must  they  be  regarded 
as  a  powerful  branch  of  the  Semitic  tree  ?  ^  This  seems  to 
us  still  a  doubtful  point.  However  it  may  be,  it  is  certain 
that  even  if  they  were  of  Cushite  origin,  they  were  not 
far  removed  from  the  Semitic  type,  and  must  have  be- 
longed to  that  proto-Semitic  race  which  has  left  a  common 
impression  on  all  its  various  branches.  It  is  impossible 
to  doubt  that  there  was  a  .close  connection  between  the 
Phoenician  language  and  that  of  the  Hebrews,  which 
made  communication  between  them  perfectly  easy.  Syria 
was  originally  occupied  by  peoples  belonging  to  the  same 
race  as  the  Phoenicians,  but  not  rising  to  the  rank  of 
nations.     They  were  merely  agglomerations  of  tribes. 

'  Tide's  ground  for  connecting  the  Phoenicians  directly  with  the 
Semitic  race  is  the  great  similarity  of  the  languages.  He  saj^s  that  this 
cannot  be  explained  by  subsequent  relations  between  them,  since  the 
Phoenicians  and  the  Israelites  were  always  at  war  from  the  time  of  the 
settlement  of  Israel  in  Canaan.  M.  Berger  sets  against  this  opinion,  the 
genealogical  table  of  the  sons  of  Noah  (Gen.  x.  6),  in  which  Canaan  is 
spoken  of  as  the  son  of  Ham,  an  assertion  confirmed  by  the  testimony  of 
Herodotus.  Beside,  the  Phoenician  tributaries  represented  on  the  tomb 
of  Rekmara,  under  the  Egyptian  king  Thothmosis  III.,  are  not  at  all 
Semitic  in  type. 


96    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

The  Israelites  came  into  contact  with  their  survivors  at 
the  time  of  the  conquest  of  Canaan.  They  were  terrified 
at  the  sight  of  them  as  though  they  were  a  race  of  giants. 
"  Who  can  stand  before  the  children  of  Anak  ?  "  we  read 
in  the  sacred  story.^  These  ancient  lords  of  the  country 
seemed  to  them  giants  who  muttered  with  voices  of 
thunder,  and  before  whom  all  other  nations  were  as  grass- 
hoppers. The  whole  of  Syria,  as  the  result  of  successive 
invasions,  was  divided  among  three  great  races,  all  sprung 
from  a  common  stock,  and  all  speaking  one  language  with 
slight  differences  of  dialect : 

1.  The  Khitas  (Hittites),  to  the  north  and  east  of 
Lebanon. 

2.  The  Canaanites  along  the  coasts,  and  in  the  centre 
and  south  of  the  country,  in  the  valley  of  the  Orontes 
above  Nazana  (Cesaraea),  and  the  Jordan. 

3.  The  Tarechites,  differing  slightly  from  the  Canaanites, 
to  the  south  and  east  of  the  Dead  Sea,  upon  the  confines 
of  the  desert  of  Arabia.  The  Canaanites  quickly  divided 
themselves  into  two  groups — the  maritime  group,  upon 
which  we  shall  fix  our  attention,  as  the  more  important, 
and  the  group  inhabiting  the  valleys  of  the  interior.  To 
this  group  belonged  the  small  nations  from  whom  the 
children  of  Israel  conquered  the  land  of  Canaan.  In 
order  to  make  good  their  conquest,  they  had  to  go  on 
fighting  for  centuries  against  the  former  possessors  of  the 
soil,  who  were  divided  into  a  number  of  tribes.^  The 
chief  of  these  before  the  Jewish  conquest  were  the  Hittites 
and  the  Amorites,  the  Girgashites  and  the  Tarechites,  who 
were  divided  into  Ammonites,  Moabites,  and  Edomites.^ 
These  tribes  inhabited  the  southern  portion  of  the  country 
bordering  on  the  Red  Sea.  The  Amalekites  were  desert 
nomads.  The  religion  of  the  Canaanites  of  the  interior 
did  not  sensibly  differ  from  that  of  the  Canaanites  on 
the  sea  coast.  It  had  the  same  basis  of  belief;  but  as 
they  stood  on  a  much  lower  platform  of  civilisation,  they 
did  not  elaborate  their  religion  in  the  same  way  as  the 
Phoenicians. 


'  Deut.  ix.  2.  2  Ibid.,  ii.  10,  12. 

^  Maspero,  "  Histoire,"  2nd  edit.,  p.  173. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  PIICENICIA.  97 

It  will  be  well  for  us  to  take  this  religion  at  its  highest 
point  of  development.  There  is  no  real  difference  to  be 
observed  between  the  religion  of  the  Canaanites  of  the 
interior  and  that  of  the  Philistines  who  occupied  the  sea- 
coast  of  Palestine,  where  they  built  five  large  cities  :  Gaza, 
Ashdod,  Ascalon,  Ekron  and  Gath.  This  territory,  the 
intersecting  point  of  Syria  with  the  desert,  between  the 
torrent  of  Egypt  and  the  environs  of  Joppa,  had  been 
allotted  to  them  by  Rameses  III.,  after  he  had  repelled 
their  attempt  to  invade  his  kingdom.  Instead  of  sending 
them  back  to  Crete  whence  they  originally  came,  he 
gave  them  a  tract  of  land  in  Syria.  Their  population 
was  fed  by  Amorite  fugitives  after  the  victories  of  the 
Jews. 

As  we  have  said,  the  Canaanites  who  dwelt  on  the  coast 
became  important  through  their  commercial  activity.  They 
preferred  the  indefinite  empire  of  the  sea,  as  a  source  of 
power  and  wealth,  to  territorial  extension.  They  did  not 
found  an  empire,  but  contented  themselves  with  forming 
active  centres  of  aggressive  civilisation  by  building  cities 
along  the  seaboard.  The  chief  of  these  were  Acre,  Tyre, 
Beyrout,  Arva,  Sidon,  Gebal,  Smyrna,  Byblos.  Each  of 
these  cities  formed  a  little  kingdom,  a  principality  with  its 
gods,  its  laws,  its  magistrates  called  sufifetes,  governing  itself 
by  an  aristocracy  and  municipality,  like  Venice  and  the 
Hanseatic  towns.  Their  commercial  establishments  were 
upon  islands  at  a  little  distance  from  the  coast,  which 
served  at  once  as  fortress  and  sanctuary.  They  were  in 
fact  like  a  second  city.  The  first  Egyptian  monument 
which  mentions  the  Phoenicians,  dates  from  1 600  B.C. 
under  Thothmosis  III.  It  was  at  this  time  they  occupied 
the  coast  of  Syria,  and  built  most  of  their  cities.  We  are 
therefore  carried  back  several  centuries  for  the  commence- 
ment of  their  dominion  in  this  region.  We  cannot  go  into 
the  details  of  the  history.  Tyre  and  Sidon  alternated  in 
importance.  Their  internal  history  was  stormy  and  con- 
fused. The  form  of  government  was  often  modified,  being 
sometimes  a  monarchy,  sometimes  an  elective  magis- 
tracy ;  but  the  social  constitution  was  never  radically 
changed.  Nothing  could  be  more  admirable  than  the 
Phoenician   system  of  commerce  and   colonisation,  which 

7 


98     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

extended  first  to  Boeotia,  then  to  the  Peloponnesus,  then 
to  the  island  of  Cyprus,  which  was  another  Phoenicia, 
and  lastly  to  the  coast  of  Africa,  where  in  800  b.c.  the 
Phoenicians  founded  in  Carthage  a  maritime  empire  which 
became  the  rival  of  Rome.  Phoenicia  shared  in  the 
vicissitudes  of  Western  Asia  under  the  successive  domina- 
tion of  Egypt  and  Assyria,  but  it  repeatedly  made  heroic 
struggles  to  free  itself  from  its  oppressors.  The  most 
memorable  of  these  was  the  victorious  defence  of  Tyre 
against  Nebuchadnezzar.  Phoenicia  could  not  but  bow 
under  the  yoke  of  the  great  Persian,  Greek  and  Roman 
conquerors,  but  it  always  kept  the  distinguished  place  it 
had  won  for  itself  by  its  colonial  enterprise. 

We  have  already  noticed  the  influence  exerted  by  the 
various  aspects  of  nature  upon  the  development  of  the 
religion  of  nations,  which  regarded  them  as  the  principal 
manifestations  of  the  divine.  The  one  basis  common  to 
all  nature-religions  is  modified  according  to  these  various 
aspects,  and  reflects  them  faithfully,  till  they  assume  the 
form  of  myths,  as  they  become  identified  with  the  dim  past 
of  the  nation's  history. 

Syria  is  only  another  illustration  of  the  same  law.  This 
is  not  like  Egypt,  a  vast  plain  traversed  by  a  river,  the  ebb 
and  flow  of  which  is  as  regular  as  the  rising  and  setting 
of  the  sun.  The  sea,  now  smooth  and  shining,  now 
tossed  with  tempest,  breaks  on  its  rugged  shores.  High 
mountain  chains  run  through  it.  Carmel,  Libanus,  Anti- 
Libanus  with  their  snowy  peaks,  lift  their  heads  under 
a  sky  almost  always  serene  and  blue.  The  valleys  and 
plains  are  rich  in  vegetation.  Carmel  puts  on  in  the 
springtime  the  beautiful  garments  of  which  the  prophet 
of  Israel  writes,  and  seems  to  break  forth  into  joy  and 
singing.  Nowhere  else  perhaps  in  Western  Asia  does  the 
spring  open  with  such  brilliance  and  rapidity.  The  warm 
breeze  seems  to  carry  the  fruitful  germs  on  its  wings. 
Nature  teems  with  life.  Hence  it  will  not  be  the  idea  of 
death  and  of  the  mysterious  realm  of  souls  which  will  be 
paramount  in  such  a  region,  intoxicated  as  it  were  with  the 
joy  of  living.  Nature  will  appear  here  as  pre-eminently  the 
mother,  the  inexhaustible  fountain  of  being,  and  it  will 
naturally  be  represented  under  voluptuous  images.     It  is 


THE  RELIGION  OF  FIICE.YICIA.  99 

easy  to  understand  how  Syria  became  the  cradle  of  the 
worship  of  the  great  goddess  Astarte,  who  lays  her  spell 
upon  the  senses  and  suffuses  universal  existence  with  a 
flood  of.  delights. 

This  goddess  bears  no  resemblance  to  the  austere  Isis, 
but  rather  to  the  Istar  of  Babylon,  who  was  also  the  god- 
dess of  fruitfulness,  but  Astarte  is  yet  more  voluptuous  in 
character.  Subsequently,  under  the  influence  of  anthro- 
pomorphism, she  will  become  the  Venus  of  immortal  beauty, 
purified  by  the  idealisation  of  high  art.  But  in  Syria  the 
goddess  never  represents  anything  higher  than  the  re- 
productive power  of  nature,  set  forth  in  a  t3^pe  destitute 
of  artistic  grace,  but  none  the  less  effectual  in  fanning 
the  passions  of  this  fiery  race.  It  was  of  this  voluptuous 
Astarte  that  Plautus  said  in  his  "  Mercator,"  that  she  was 
the  very  life  of  men  and  of  gods  ;  that  sea,  earth  and  sky 
did  homage  to  her  as  the  object  of  universal  worship.  It 
should  be  observed  that  he  put  this  apotheosis  of  the 
goddess  into  the  mouth  of  a  Phoenician. 

"  Diva  Astarte,  hominum  deorumque  vis,  vita,  salus 
Earn  spectant ;  illi  obtemperant."  ' 

Astarte  was  not  less  ready  to  kill  than  to  make  alive ; 
she  carried  on  her  operations  by  sudden  acts  of  violence. 
In  such  a  religion  death  could  not  appear,  as  it  did  to 
the  Egyptian,  like  the  evening  of  a  glorious  day,  full 
of  the  promise  of  the  coming  dawn,  but  rather  like  a  con- 
suming fire  devouring  its  prey  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye. 
Hence  the  indestructible  hope  of  the  future  life  pales 
before  the  strong  excitement  of  sensual  passion,  or  in  the 
alarm  of  sudden  doom. 

We  shall  observe  this  two-fold  character  in  the  Phoeni- 
cian worship,  except  in  a  few  privileged  cities  where,  in 
correspondence  with  a  gentler  aspect  of  nature,  we  find 
a  milder  religion.  It  is  easy  to  discern  even  in  the 
advanced  religious  development  of  the  Phoenicians,  traces 
of  the  primitive  fetishism  which  worshipped  the  divinity 
in  the  mountains.  Their  majesty  produced  a  strong 
impression  on  man  in  his  barbarous  state.  They  be- 
came objects  of  actual  worship   to  him,  as  is  shown  by 

'  Plautus,  "Mercator,"  v,  875. 


100    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

such  inscriptions  as  "  Baal-Hermon,"  the  **  God-Lebanon." 
Sacrifices  were  offered  to  rocks  and  caves.  The  same 
veneration  was  shown  to  the  betylse,  or  Bethels,  sacred 
conical  pieces  of  stone,  which  were  called  houses  of  God.^ 
This  primitive  worship  was  perpetuated  even  under  the 
Roman  Empire.  Tacitus  said  of  Carmel,  that  it  was 
called  at  once  a  mountain  and  a  god."  When  the 
mountain  ceased  to  be  deified  it  was  still  the  chosen  place 
of  worship.  Syria  always  worshipped  upon  the  high 
places. 

As  soon  as  Phoenicia  emerged  from  her  state  of  bar- 
barism, she  rose  to  the  conception  of  the  great  sidereal 
gods,  which,  at  this  stage  of  religious  development,  have 
been  universally  recognised  as  the  most  striking  manifes- 
tation of  deity.  There  was  always,  however,  something 
vague  and  indeterminate  about  the  solar  mythology  of  the 
Phoenicians.  They  never  attained  to  any  unity  in  their 
terminology  of  the  gods,  though  their  fundamental  con- 
ceptions were  identical.  This  diversity  of  nomenclature 
was  a  result  of  their  political  organisation,  which  made  a 
settled  monarchy  impossible.  Sidon,  Tyre,  Byblos,  all 
had  their  separate  divinities,  though  all  exactly  resembled 
each  other.  The  great  god  was  called  Baal  (the  master) 
at  Sidon  ;  Melkarth,  Moloch  or  Melek  (the  king)  at  Tyre ; 
Adonis  (the  lord)  at  Byblos.  Though  the  name  of  Baal 
is  given  indiscriminately  to  each  of  these  gods,  as  the 
general  designation  of  the  deity,  it  is  sometimes  fised  to 
signify  the  one  supreme  god.  The  inscriptions  which 
describe  him  as  "  the  Baal  of  the  heavens  "  indicate  this 
latent  monotheism  in  the  mind  of  man,  without  which  the 
religious  idea  would  have  no  existence,  and  which  always 
manifests  itself  in  the  end,  if  only  by  a  flash  of  light.  It 
is  said  of  the  feminine  divinity,  that  she  is  "  the  name 
of  Baal,"  that  is  to  say,  one  of  his  manifestations,  which 
implies  that,  like  the  great  Egyptian  god,  she  lives  again 
in  other  gods.^  That  the  sun  stood  for  the  supreme  god 
is  evident  from  the  myth  of  Adonis,  to  which  we  shall 
allude  again,  for  his  death  and  resurrection  can  represent 

'  Perrot  and  Chipiez,  "History  of  Art  in  Phoenicia,"  vol.  i.,  pp.  58-61. 

^  Tacitus,  "  Hist.,"  ii.,  78. 

^  It  is  said  of  Astarte,  that  she  is  the  strength  of  Baal. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  PHCENICIA. 


nothing  else  than  the  rising  and  setting  of  the  sun.  The 
name  of  El  was  also  given  to  him.  Side  by  side  with 
the  great  solar  god,  we  find  in  all  the  religious  centres  of 
Phcenicia,  the  goddess  who,  under  the  influence  of  an 
anthropomorphism  which  is  really  universal,  is  regarded 
as  his  consort.  In  truth  she  is  only  his  double,  as  appears 
from  the  inscription  already  quoted  :  "  Astarte,  the  name 
of  Baal."  At  Gebal,  the  feminine  deity  was  called  Baalit ; 
at  Tyre,  Ashtoreth  or  Astarte,  a  divinity  to  whose  impor- 
tance we  have  already  referred.  She  was  sometimes  the 
goddess  of  the  moon,  sometimes  that  of  the  planet  Venus. 
She  was  also  called  Rabbath,  the  great  lady.  Lastly,  a 
son  was  born  of  the  divine  couple,  who  was  only  the 
reproduction  of  the  great  god,  who  lived  again  in  him. 
The  Adonis  of  Byblos  is  constantly  confounded  with 
Adon.  Thus  the  son  often  becomes  the  lover  of  his 
mother.^ 

The  Phoenician  triad  is  evidently  derived  from  Chaldea. 
It  has  borrowed  the  names  of  the  principal  gods  of  Chal- 
dea, Baal  and  Astarte  corresponding  exactly  to  Bel  and 
Istar.  The  Phoenician  pantheon  is  enriched  with  a  great 
many  other  gods,  and  includes  in  the  first  place,  the 
greater  part  of  the  Egyptian  gods,  as  Isis,  Osiris,  Ptah ; 
then  purely  Semitic  gods,  such  as  Shamash,  the  sun. 
The  most  important  group  of  gods  next  to  the  triad  is  that 
worshipped  under  the  generic  name  of  the  Cabirim  or 
the  "  powerful  ones,"  who  represent  the  seven  planets, 
the  elementary  spirits  from  whom  proceeds  the  universe, 
which  is  placed  under  the  control  of  the  eighth  god  called 
Esmun,  the  Phoenician  Hermes.  He  had  his  chief 
temple  at  Beyrout.  He  was  in  reality  the  invisible  god 
of  the  highest  heavenly  sphere,  the  god  of  cosmical  fire 
concealed  in  the  waters  of  the  celestial  ocean.  His  altar 
was  set  up  on  a  platform  of  seven-storied  towers  or  on 
the  summit  of  high  mountains.  His  name  Esmun,  "  the 
eighth,"  is  a  synonym  for  the  supreme  god,  as  he  was 
supposed  to  "  approach  nearest  to  the  primordial  Baal." 
The  lions  or  serpents  which  surrounded  him  are  the  well- 
known  symbols  of  fire ;  he  was  also  regarded  as  the  god 
of  navigation.^     It  has  been  sometimes  said  that  Esmun 

'  Berger,  "Encyclopedic  Lichtcnbergcr."  ^  Tide,  pp.  307,  309. 


i02    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANnY. 


supplanted  Baal  and  Melkarth.  This  may  have  been  so, 
but  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  there  was  no  systematic 
unity  about  the  Phcenician  religion.  It  was  all  disinte- 
grated, like  the  country  itself.  The  Cabirim  were  the 
dwarf  gods.  At  Carthage,  Esmun  appears  as  the  third 
god  of  the  triad,  with  Baal-Hamon,  who  is  essentially  the 
god  of  fire,  at  once  the  creator,  destroyer  and  purifier,  and 
with  Tanith.  We  have  here  a  fresh  proof  of  the  identity 
of  the  third  term  of  the  triad  with  the  first,  and  of  the 
essential  unity  of  the  divine  principle,  which  is  perpetually 
manifesting  itself  under  various  forms.  Such  a  theodicy 
is  in  complete  harmony  with  the  Chaldean  and  Egyptian 
conception  of  the  divinity. 

The  Syro-Phoenician  worship  is  less  rich  in  symbolism 
than  the  Egyptian,  nor  is  it  overladen  with  rites  and 
magic  formularies  Hke  the  religion  of  Chaldea.  These 
rough  sailors  did  not  feel  themselves  beset  with  evil 
spirits.  They  escaped  the  nightmare  of  perpetual  fear. 
Phoenicia  does  not  seem,  as  Chaldea  did,  hke  a  land 
possessed,  and  for  ever  occupied  with  casting  out  the 
demons.  The  power  of  evil  presents  itself  to  her  as  one 
of  the  manifestations  of  the  power  of  life  and  fruitfulness, 
and  the  best  way  to  appease  it  seems  to  be  to  imitate  it 
in  both  phases.  Nowhere  else,  unless  it  be  in  Mexico, 
has  the  dangerous  belief  so  strongly  prevailed,  that  the 
best  way  to  please  the  gods  is  to  follow  their  example. 
In  this  imitation  there  is  not  only  an  attempt  to  glorify 
them,  but  also  the  strange  idea  that  by  reproducing  their 
acts,  the  worshippers  become  sharers  in  their  life.  It  is 
a  sort  of  barbarous  communism  laying  hold  of  the  deity 
under  his  twofold  aspect.  To  this  imitation  a  magic 
virtue  is  ascribed,  just  as  the  magicians  of  the  African 
tribes  imagine  that  they  can  bring  the  rain  by  imitating 
the  sound  of  thunder. 

Worship  becomes  a  sort  of  acted  mythology,  a  dramatic 
representation  of  beliefs,  with  this  peculiarity,  that  the 
drama  is  taken  seriously  and  is  not  a  mere  fiction.^ 
Hence  the  two  rites,  both  equally  abominable,  of  enforced 
prostitution  at  the  great  festivals,  and  of  the  sacrifice  of 
the  firstborn.     This  sacrifice  is  really  substitutionary,  for 

'  Bergcr,  "  Encj'clopcdie  Lichtcnberg'tr." 


THE  RELIGION  OF  PHCENICIA.  103 

the  firstborn  represents  the  family.  The  idea  of  substitution 
opened  the  way  for  some  modification  of  these  cruel  rites. 
"  Sometimes  a  domestic  animal,  a  ram,  an  ox,  a  bird,  or  a 
stag,  was  immolated  in  place  of  the  being  to  be  spared  ; 
sometimes  the  substitute  was  a  stone,  which  was  erected 
in  honour  of  the  god,  and  became  a  kind  of  metaphorical 
sacrifice."^  The  sacrifice  of  the  firstborn  was,  however, 
never  completely  abandoned. 

"  To  act  under  the  auspices  of  the  feminine  divinity," 
says  M.  Perrot,  in  reference  to  the  rites  of  prostitution, 
"  to  feed  the  flame  of  the  eternal  divine  principle,  was  to 
pay  it  homage."  These  prostitutions,  which  defiled  all  the 
sanctuaries  of  the  Syro- Phoenician  religion  wherever  it  was 
planted,  alike  in  the  West  and  in  the  Asiatic  East,  were 
prompted  by  the  belief  in  a  sort  of  marriage  between 
earth  and  heaven  whence  all  life  proceeds.  The  idea  was 
that  by  reproducing  this  union,  its  fruitfulness  was  in- 
creased. 

In  Phoenicia  these  infamous  rites  were  carried  to  their 
utmost  length,  for  among  the  attendants  in  the  temples, 
priests,  scribes,  porters,  etc.,  prostitutes  were  admitted 
under  the  name  of  singing  women,  and  carried  on  their 
abominable  trade  in  caves,  the  purpose  of  which  is  made 
plain  by  hideous  symbols.^  The  presence  of  these  recog- 
nised courtesans  did  not  prevent  the  sacrifice  of  virgin 
purity,  and  even  married  women  paid  periodical  visits  to 
these  sanctuaries  of  vice.  The  absolute  dependence  of 
man  upon  his  gods  was  manifested  in  many  ways.  For 
example,  the  hair  was  cut  at  certain  festivals,  rings  were 
worn  in  the  ears  and  nose,  the  person  was  laden  with 
sacred  amulets  to  show  that  the  man  belonged  to  his  god, 
whom  he  looked  upon  as  a  merciless  creditor.  The 
temple  was  the  bank  where  these  great  merchants  of  the 
old  world  paid  their  debts.^ 

The  future  life,  as  we  have  said,  did  not  much  concern 
them,  engaged  as  they  were  in  the  daring  and  desperate 
struggle  for  existence.  They  thought  of  it  sometimes 
however.      Apart  from  the   invincible  instinct    impelling 

'  Perrot  and  Chipiez,  "  History  of  Art  in  Phcenicia,"  vol.  i.,  p.  74- 
^  Renan,  "Mission  phenicienne,"  p.  148. 
*  Berger,  "  Encyclopedic  Lichtenberger." 


104    ^-^-^  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

the  soul  of  man  to  gaze  into  futurity,  they  felt  in  this 
respect  the  influence  of  Egypt,  though  they  relegated  to 
the  background  that  which  was  always  the  salient  feature 
in  the  life  of  Egypt.  In  the  first  place  they  paid  great 
attention  to  their  burial-places.  The  tombs  were  cut  in 
the  rock.  They  were  great  caves  of  the  dead,  often 
forming  a  vast  necropolis.  The  bodies  were  laid  in  rock- 
cut  niches  or  corpse-ovens,  and  beneath  each  niche  a 
little  slab  was  placed  giving  the  name  of  the  occupant.^ 

The  process  of  embalming  seems  to  have  been  very 
simple.  The  surroundings  of  the  dead,  intended  to  pro- 
long in  some  measure  his  earthly  existence,  were  exactly 
the  same  as  those  used  in  Chaldea  and  Egypt.  Beside 
the  sarcophagi,  which  often  reproduce  the  human  form, 
were  placed  statuettes  of  tutelary  divinities.'"*  In  Deutero- 
nomy, where  there  are  constant  allusions  to  the  Canaani- 
tish  practices,  we  find  this  reference  to  the  sacrifices  of 
the  dead.  The  pious  Israelite  says,  "  I  have  not  taken 
away  ought  thereof  for  any  unclean  use,  nor  given  ought 
thereof  for  the  dead."  ^  When  Job  says  that  in  his  grave 
he  should  sleep  "  with  kings  and  counsellors  of  the  earth, 
which  built  desolate  places  for  themselves,"  he  expresses 
the  idea  of  life  in  that  pale  land  of  shades,  in  view  of 
which  the  great  ones  of  the  land  of  Canaan  built  their 
sepulchres.*  The  idea  of  death  does  not  appear  to 
have  been  less  terrible  to  the  Syro-Phoenicians  than  to 
the  ancient  Hebrews.  The  square  caves  for  the  dead 
in  the  subterranean  necropolis  at  Sidon  answer  exactly 
to  the  gloomy  descriptions  which  we  find  in  the  sacred 
books  of  the  Jews.  "  The  well  into  which  the  corpse 
was  let  down,  and  which  seemed  always  opening  its 
mouth  for  fresh  prey,  is  the  jaw  of  Sheol  which  devours 
all  flesh."  "> 

In  one  of  the  most  important  religious  centres  of 
Phoenicia,  however,  we  find  a  much  higher  idea — that  of  a 
renewal  in  death,  which  is  evidently  borrowed  from  Egypt. 

'  "  History  of  Art  in  Phcenicia,"  Perrot  and  Chipiez,  vol.  i.,  pp.  236,  237. 

^  Perrot,  "  Art  in  Phoenicia,"  vol.  i.,  p.  144. 

■  Deut.  xxvi.  14 ;  Perrot  and  Chipiez,  vol.  i.,  p.  145, 

Mob  iii.  13,  14. 

*  Rcnan,  ''  Mission  phenicienne,"  p.  410. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  PHCENICIA.  105 

We  proceed  briefly  to  describe  this  strange  worship  at 
Byblos,  which,  while  based  upon  the  same  principles  as 
the  religion  of  Phoenicia,  gave  it  a  special  development, 
and  exerted  a  deep  influence  outside  Syria. 

In  this  worship  we  recognise  local  elemxents,  and  others 
derived  from  Egypt,  which  was  in  close  intercourse  with 
Syria.  We  find  in  the  ruins  of  Byblos  many  fragments 
of  statues  which  are  undoubtedly  Egyptian.  The  whole 
of  this  district  produces  an  impression  at  once  sad  and 
soothing.  M.  Renan  says  :  "  The  infinite  charm  of  nature 
in  these  regions  invests  even  the  thought-  of  death  with 
a  fatal  attraction,  so  that  the  soul  drifts  along  towards  it, 
lulled  by  siren  songs.  The  religious  emotions  are  sen- 
suous, slumberous,  tearful.  Even  the  Syriac  hymns  of 
to-day  in  honour  of  the  Virgin  have  a  sort  of  sigh  or 
choking  sob  in  their  refrain."  ^  The  same  remarkable 
writer  says  again :  "  The  sort  of  funnel  out  of  which  the 
river  flows,  is  like  the  central  point  of  a  vast  amphitheatre, 
formed  by  towers  and  rocks  of  great  height.  The  river 
plunges  down  in  one  great  leap  to  a  fearful  depth.  There 
is  something  delicious  in  the  purity  of  the  water,  the 
freshness  of  the  air,  the  beauty  of  the  vegetation.  The 
intoxicating  charm  of  nature  at  these  altitudes,  makes  it 
easy  to  understand  how  man,  inhabiting  this  wonderland, 
should  have  been  a  wild  dreamer  of  dreams." 

It  was  in  this  enchanted  country  that  the  worship  of 
Adonis  grew  up.  It  has  often  been  described  in  vivid 
colours  by  ancient  writers.  In  the  spring  time  a  myster- 
ious sarcophagus  was  placed  on  a  catafalque"  in  the 
midst  of  the  temple.  A  painted  wooden  figure  with  a 
gaping  wound  in  the  side  was  laid  upon  the  sarcophagus. 
Beside  the  corpse,  stood  the  boar  which  had  mortally 
wounded  it  in  the  chase.  The  dead  god  was  the  object  of 
passionate  and  noisy  lamentations  which  filled  the  whole 
city.  Women,  some  with  streaming  hair,  others  shaven 
and  smiting  their  breast,  eunuchs  dressed  as  women,  ran 
about  the  streets  as  though  seeking  the  dead  god.  He 
was  carried  to  his  grave  with  great  funereal  pomp.  Vases 
full  of  flowers  brought  from  the  garden  of  Adonis,  were 
exposed   to  the  sun  which  withered  them  up,  and  thus 

'  Renan,  "  Mission,"  p.  130. 


io6    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

made  them  symbols  of  the  death  of  the  young  god.  The 
favourite  of  the  goddess  of  abundance  and  of  love,  he  had 
been  sacrificed  by  the  cruel  god  represented  by  the  boar. 
To  the  Greeks  all  this  was  only  a  poetical  myth  of  the 
beautiful  Adonis,  the  lover  of  Aphrodite,  sacrificed  by  the 
jealousy  of  Ares,  but  at  Byblos  it  was  taken  to  represent 
at  once  the  drama  of  nature  and  that  of  human  destiny. 
This  higher  and  deeper  meaning  of  the  myth  comes  out 
from  the  second  great  feast  celebrated  in  autumn  at  the 
close  of  the  year.  The  funeral  feast,  like  that  of  the 
springtime,  lasted  only  seven  days.  Mourning  was  then 
set  aside  for  the  most  extravagant  manifestations  of  joy 
in  honour  of  the  god  risen  and  ascended  into  the  sky. 
This  delirious  joy  was  accompanied  by  lawless  license,  in 
which  prostitution  was  freely  indulged  as  a  religious  rite. 

If  we  analyse  the  various  elements  combined  in  this 
strange  worship,  we  find  in  it  first  of  all  the  dramatisation 
of  the  old  beliefs  peculiar  to  the  whole  of  Phoenicia,  the 
manifestation  of  the  divinity  under  the  double  aspect  of 
life  and  death.  This  god,  who  dies  twice  over,  first  under 
the  fervent  heat  of  summer  and  again  at  the  approach 
of  winter,  only  to  revive  in  all  the  fulness  of  voluptuous 
life,  is  the  nature-god,  always  the  same  under  a  diversity 
of  forms,  for  the  very  power  of  evil  that  kills  him,  is  but 
himself  under  another  aspect.  In  Asia  Minor  this  idea 
seems  to  have  been  caught  from  the  myth  of  Byblos,  but 
instead  of  the  slaughter  of  the  god  by  the  boar,  he  is 
mortally  W'Ounded  by  his  own  hand. 

He  is  ^10  longer  called  Adonis,  but  Atys.  In  the  second 
place,  we  have  in  the  whole  of  this  strange  myth,  a 
reflection  of  one  of  the  most  curious  characteristics  of  the 
country,  which  has  certainly  contributed  to  the  special 
form  assumed  by  the  myth  at  Byblos.  M,  Renan  says : 
"  The  mouth  of  the  river  Orontes  is  a  charming  place.  I 
have  there  seen  reproduced  the  phenomenon  of  the  blood 
of  Adonis.  After  heavy  and  sudden  rains,  all  the  streams 
pour  into  the  sea  floods  of  reddish  water,  which  form 
a  red  line  all  along  the  coast."  ^  The  nfyth  of  Adonis 
was  essentially  agricultural,  and  represented  the  alternation 
of  fertility    and  sterility  in   nature.     A    higher  idea  was 

'  Renan,  "  Mission,"  p.  182. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  PHCENICIA.  107 

infused  into  it,  as  it  became  identifiel  with  the  worship  of 
Osiris.  We  must  not  forget  that  A(  onis,  Hke  the  Egyp- 
tian god,  was  a  supreme  deity.  The  Adonai  of  Phoenicia 
is  in  fact  the  Absolute  Being,  remaining  one  and  the  same 
through  all  his  successive  transformations.  He  may 
change  his  name,  and  be  called  Lamentation,  as  the  wind- 
god  whose  plaint  is  heard  in  the  murmurs  of  the  air,  or 
Tammuz,  the  separate  one, — when  he  passes  through 
death,  after  having  been  Esmvin,  in  his  hidden  life  ;  but 
he  never  ceases  to  be  the  Absolute,  the  Only  One.  Con- 
taining all  beings  in  himself,  he  includes  and  carries  them 
along  with  him  in  his  external  evolution.  With  him  they 
pass  through  death,  with  him  they  come  to  life  again. 
Thus  the  resurrection  of  the  young  god  is  the  promise  of 
the  universal  resurrection  ;  and  to  man  in  particular,  it  is  a 
certain  pledge  of  his  immortal  destiny,  the  secret  of  which 
remains  impenetrable.  The  history  of  his  god  represents 
for  him  death  with  its  terrors,  and  the  divine  renewal  be- 
yond the  grave.  Nothing  can  better  illustrate  the  new 
meaning  acquired  by  the  myth,  than  the  repetition  of  the 
feasts  of  Adonis  on  the  occasion  of  the  death  of  young 
people  who  liad  been  remarkable  for  various  gifts. 

We  have  seen  how  important  a  part  is  played  in  the 
myth  of  Adonis,  by  the  goddess  who  at  Byblos  is  called 
Baalat.  She  is  first  the  object  of  his  affection,  and  then 
the  cause  of  his  mortal  wound  from  the  blows  of  the 
jealous  god.  She  is  indeed  the  personification  of  volup- 
tuousness, the  sister  of  death,  the  mysterious  power  which 
only  swells  the  stream  of  life  to  dry  it  up,  save  as  it  flows 
on  again  in  the  perpetual  renewal  of  existence. 

This  lower  aspect  of  the  myth  of  Adonis  was  that  which 
attracted  the  most  worshippers,  especially  in  other  lands, 
as  at  Paphos,  where  the  feminine  goddess  was  invested 
with  warlike  attributes.  The  impure  saturnalia  of 
Phoenicia  seem  to  have  been  carried  to  great  lengths  in 
these  remote  regions,  before  younp;  Greece  introduced 
what  was  at  least  an  aesthetic  reaction  against  such 
excesses.  At  Ascalon,  the  capital  cf  Philistia,  the  femi- 
nine deity  was  called  Derceto.  The  male  god  becamie 
Dagon,  represented  under  the  form  of  a  fish.  The  religion 
is  always  the  same,  with  a  more  marked  Babylonian  in- 


io8    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

fluence.  The  Syrian  goddess,  in  the  decadence  of  the 
ancient  world,  again  became  Astarte,  the  primitive  Baalat, 
and  all  that  was  noble  in  the  myth  of  Adonis  was  drowned 
in  floods  of  debauchery. 

Phoenician  art  was  like  its  religion — heavy  and  formless. 
In  reality,  the  religion  of  the  country  recognised  nothing 
but  force,  rude  brute  force, — the  force  of  unrestrained 
passions.  There  was  nothing  in  its  conception  of  the 
divine  to  lead  to  the  creation  of  types  of  beauty. 

Thus  Phoenicia  chose  to  represent  her  gods  by  an 
image  which  was  often  only  a  conical  stone,  and  did  not 
give  them  a  human  form  unless  by  reproducing  the  Egyp- 
tian types.  The  few  original  attempts  to  represent  figures 
are  miserable  failures,  resulting  in  either  monsters  or 
dwarfs.  Never  was  anthropomorphism  more  abused. 
There  was  nothing  in  the  Phoenician  religion  to  encourage 
the  sculptor  to  aim  at  truth  in  his  delineation  of  humanity. 
Phoenicia  was  split  up  into  so  many  sections,  that  it  had 
not,  like  Assyria  or  Egypt,  any  ro3^al  race  to  magnify. 
It  had  no  king  to  stand  as  the  representative  of  its  god. 
Its  only  statues  were  images  for  the  dead.  The  tomb  was 
a  cave  hollowed  out  in  the  rock  upon  which  were  placed 
other  buildings  all  of  the  same  order.  The  Phoenician 
temple  strongly  resembles  the  Egyptian.  It  is  only  an 
enclosure  more  or  less  extensive,  covered  with  stones  laid 
one  upon  another,  in  the  centre  of  which  a  tabernacle 
contains  the  effigy  of  the  god.  Phoenician  buildings 
always  begin  with  a  monolith.  When  this  does  not 
suffice,  other  monoliths  are  added  without  any  artistic 
arrangement  or  attempt  at  harmony  of  outline.  The  idea 
of  shaping  and  transforming  the  stone  never  seems  to 
present  itself  This  massive  character  of  Phoenician  art  is 
admirably  rendered  by  M.  Renan  in  the  following  passage 
from  his  "  Mission  de  Phenicie."  He  says:  "The  prin- 
ciple of  monohthism  is  the  direct  opposite  of  the  Hellenic 
style.  Greek  architecture  starts  with  the  principle  of 
dividing  the  stones.  Where  enormous  blocks  are  used  the 
effect  is  mere  massiveness.  In  the  Greek  style,  the  first 
object  was  to  make  the  wall  beautiful.  Now  a  wall 
derives  its  beauty  from  the  symmetry  of  the  joints, 
corresponding  to  the  lines  of  the  building.     Every  stone 


THE  RELIGION  OF  PHCENICIA.  109 

is  a  separate  unit  representing  one  member  of  the  whole. 
Absolute  master  of  his  material,  the  Greek  architect 
observes  delicacies  of  structure  which  elsewhere  have 
been  overlooked  in  the  art  of  building.  The  Syro-Phoeni- 
cian  architect  is  the  slave  of  his  materials.  To  him  the 
stone  is  always  a  shapeless  mass  of  rock.  Huge  walls 
composed  of  blocks,  taken  ready  made  as  it  were  from 
the  quarry,  are  the  essential  features  of  Phoenician  monu- 
ments." ^  "  The  only  temples  of  ancient  Syria  are 
shapeless  high  places  or  caves  in  the  rock."  ^ 

The  temples  are  filled  with  precious  things,  which  make 
us  admire  the  abundance  and  variety  of  the  materials 
employed,  but  show  also  to  what  a  degree  Phoenician 
art,  when  it  departs  from  its  ordinary  massive  types, 
lacks  originality.  It  simply  imitates  first  Egypt  and  then 
Greece.  It  is  more  successful  in  industrial  than  in 
religious  art,  but  its  productions  have  neither  grace  nor 
elegance  ;  they  are  only  the  bright  and  effective  goods 
which  command  a  ready  market. 

And  yet  it  was  by  its  singularly  adventurous  commerce, 
not  only  in  material  but  intellectual  wealth,  that  Phoenicia 
showed  its  true  superiority.  Commerce  is  a  more  rapid 
and  effective  medium  than  war  for  the  exchange  of 
thought.  It  was  needful  that  the  West,  which  was  destined 
to  attain  to  higher  and  fuller  culture,  should  receive  from 
the  East  the  first  materials  for  its  work.  These  Phoenicia 
gave  her  in  great  blocks,  like  those  which  she  left  intact  at 
the  base  of  her  temples.  The  Greek  spirit  moulded  them 
by  the  chisel  of  its  artists,  and  transforming  the  rude  stone, 
drew  from  it  divine  types  of  plastic  beauty,  instinct  with 
moral  life. 

Did  conscience,  the  great  prophetess,  who  breaks  the 
shackles  of  the  historic  past  and  foreshadows  the  truths  of 
the  future,  remain  absolutely  without  witness  in  this  land 
of  Phoenicia,  defiled  with  so  many  abominations  and 
watered  with  so  much  blood  ?  Was  not  that  blood  itself 
regarded  as  a  means  of  expiating  a  life  of  licentiousness, 
against  which  there  must  have  been  sometimes  an  inward 
protest,  though  it  was  so  carefully  made  a  part  of  worship  ? 
We  do  not  doubt   that  it  was  so,  and  that  noble    souls 

>  Renan  "  Mission,"  p.  2S2.  -  Ibid.,  p.  31. 


no    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

found  expression  for  their  aspirations  after  a  better 
life  in  the  myth  of  the  dead  and  risen  god.  They 
found  some  moral  satisfaction  in  the  sort  of  pantheis- 
tic monotheism  which  formed  the  background  of  their 
national  religion.  There  seems  to  us  a  touching  ex- 
pression of  gratitude  to  the  supreme  God  in  the  following 
inscription  :  "  To  our  Lord,  the  master  of  Tyre.  Receive 
the  offering  of  thy  servants.  He  has  heard  their  cries. 
May  he  bless  them  ! "  ^  Upon  one  Phoenician  bas  relief, 
we  see  the  worshipper  prostrate  before  his  god,  evidently 
representing  prayer.  But  all  this  is  very  vague  and 
inadequate,  and  falls  far  short  of  the  Chaldean  psalms  of 
penitence  and  the  aspirations  of  Egypt  after  an  immortal 
life. 

Let  us  recognise  in  conclusion  that  the  Phoenicians 
added  very  little  to  the  religious  treasure  of  the  ancient 
world,  but  that  they  fulfilled  their  mission  by  helping  to 
circulate  that  treasure  more  widely.  As  we  see  them  on 
the  poops  of  their  vessels,  braving  unknown  seas  on 
missions  of  peaceful  conquest,  we  feel  constrained  to 
admire  this  valiant  race. 

'  Renan,  "  Mission,"  p.  227. 


BOOK   II. 

THE  RELIGIOUS  DEVELOPMENT  OF  THE 
ORIENTAL  ARYANS 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE  PRIMITIVE   ARYANS. 

IN  the  country  watered  by  the  Indus  and  the  Jaxartes, 
including  therefore  Bactriana  and  Sogdiana,  a  race 
gifted  to  a  remarkable  degree  with  the  genius  of  civiHsa- 
tion,  rose  to  a  high  stage  of  moral  and  social  culture. 
Its  very  name  indicated  a  sense  of  its  own  superiority. 
By  designating  themselves  Aryans,  ^  its  sons  assumed  to 
be  the  excellent  of  the  earth,  the  masters  and  lords  of 
other  peoples,  whom  they  contemptuously  called  barbarians 
or  stutterers,  so  highly  did  these  Aryans  esteem  beauty 
and  clearness  of  language.^  This  race,  destined  to  play 
so  distinguished  a  part  in  the  history  of  humanity,  came 
to  be  divided  into  two  great  branches,  the  one  Western 
the  other  Eastern.  The  Western  branch  was  again 
subdivided  in  later  times  into  Greeks,  Romans,  Celts, 
Scandinavians  and  Slavs.  The  Oriental  Aryans  com- 
prised Persians,  Medes,  Bactrians  and  the  higher  castes 
of  India.  That  these  nations  belonged  to  the  same  race 
is  proved  irrefragably  by  the  common  basis  of  their 
language,  which  has  never  been  obliterated,  widely  as 
their  destinies  and  modes  of  civilised  life  have  diverged. 
Sanscrit,  beyond  question  the  most  ancient  of  these 
languages,  has,  in  the  course  of  its  modern  investigation, 
borne  conclusive  witness  to  their  community  of  origin. 
Comparative  philology  has  led  to  a  still  more  interesting 
result,  by  revealing  to  us  the  moral  and  social  state  of  the 


'  Pictet,  "  Origines  indo-europeennes,"  vol.  i.  p.  38,  et  seq.  See  the 
traces  of  this  appellation  pointed  out  by  the  learned  author  in  the  idioms 
of  Europe. 

-  The  word  barbarian  occurs  in  the  language  of  both  Western  and 
Eastern  Aryans,  and  must  have  been  in  use  therefore  before  their 
separation. 

8 


114    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 


great  Aryan  race  before  its  dispersion.  For  it  is  evident 
that  when  we  find  words  identical  in  the  languages  of 
nations  now  differing  so  widely  from  one  another,  we 
must  conclude  that  these  words  belonged  to  the  idiom 
originally  common  to  them  all,  and  that  they  have  all 
sprung  from  one  stock.  Now  as  these  root-words  express 
ideas  and  describe  facts  and  usages,  we  shall  be  able 
by  grouping  them  to  form  some  idea  of  our  common 
ancestors,  of  their  degree  of  civilisation,  their  social  con- 
stitution and  their  religion. 

This  is  only  true  of  words  common  to  the  two  great 
sections  of  the  Aryan  race,  the  Eastern  and  Western. 
Those  which  occur  in  one  section  only,  belong  evidently 
to  a  date  later  than  that  of  their  separation.  It  would 
be  dangerous  to  push  too  far  this  restoration,  by  the  aid 
of  comparative  philology,  of  so  distant  a  past.  Hence 
we  must  be  content  with  that  which  is  indisputable,  namely, 
analogies  which  do  not  stop  short  of  identity.  These 
suffice  to  give  us  at  least  a  general  idea  of  the  develop- 
ment attained  by  this  noble  race,  which,  like  all  other  races, 
began  in  a  state  of  barbarism.^ 

Speaking  generally,  the  Aryans  seem  to  have  shaken 
off  more  rapidly  than  the  Chaldeans,  the  nightmare  cf 
naturism,  with  its  legion  of  demons  peopling  earth,  air  and 
water.  The  country  which  was  the  cradle  of  the  race  was 
the  most  temperate  in  Asia,  and  presented  far  less  abrupt 
contrasts  than  Chaldea  or  Phoenicia.  It  had  soft  mountain 
slopes  and  a  sunny  climate.  The  dawn  broke  over  it  in 
poetic  mildness ;  the  year  had  its  springtime,  and  summer 
did  not  burst  upon  the  land  in  sudden,  consuming  heat. 
To  all  this,  the  language  bears  testimony.  While  in  all 
the  Aryan  idioms  winter  is  designated  by  a  common  root, 
as  the  season  of  snows,  spring  is  called  the  season  of 
reclothing.^  The  earth  was  then  adorned  with  greenness 
and  flowers,  before  the  parching  summer  heat  began.    The 

'  The  best  book  on  this  point  is  that  already  referred  to,  by  M.  Pictei  : 
"  Les  origines  indo-europeennes  et  les  Aryas  primitifs — Essai  de  paleon- 
tologie  Hnguistique,"  vol.  iii.  2nd  ed.  Paris:  Fischbacher,  1878.  We 
know  that  the  inductions  of  this  eminent  philologist  have  been  often 
disputed,  and  that  they  are  very  bold.  We  accept  only  that  which  is 
verified  by  ample  evidence. 

"^  Pictet,  vol.  i.  c.  v.  §  10,  II. 


THE  PRIMITIVE  ARYANS.  xi$\ 

climate  appears  to  have  been  peculiarly  temperate.  It  did 
not  benumb  the  inhabitant,  like  the  eternal  frosts  of  the 
north,  nor  prostrate  him  with  pitiless  heat.  The  Aryan 
had  thus  his  energies  at  command  and  was  equal  to  the 
exertions  which  the  nature  of  the  soil  demanded. 

Judging  by  the  words  which  we  find  common  to  all  the 
Aryans  in  their  dispersion,  and  which  serve  as  so  many 
commemorative  medals  of  an  obscure  past,  their  ancestors 
appear  to  have  been  really  civilised.  In  the  first  place, 
the  family  bond  was  recognised.  The  names  of  the  various 
members  of  the  family  are,  so  to  speak,  illumined  by 
a  ray  of  love.  The  marriage  tie  was  a  real  one.  The 
husband  is  spoken  of  as  "  he  who  provides  for  and  rules 
his  household"  the  "  kind  master"  and  the  wife  as  the 
"mistress,"^  which  implies  a  union  without  tyranny  on  the 
one  hand  or  degradation  on  the  other.  The  word  father, 
which  is  identical  in  its  root  in  all  the  Indo-European 
languages,  may  be  translated  :  "  he  who  protects."  The 
mother,  "  she  who  bears  children."  ^  The  brother  is  desig- 
nated as  a  protector,  like  the  father,  for  the  two  expres- 
sions are  synonymous.^  The  sister  is  the  inhabitant  of 
the  house,  the  one  who  in  her  weakness  has  most  need  of 
the  shelter  of  the  hearth,  the  one  doubly  guarded  by  father 
and  mother.*  The  duty  of  protection  was  also  laid  on  the 
uncle  and  aunt.  This  old  language,  thus  reconstructed, 
perpetuated  the  memory  of  the  slavery  resulting  from  war, 
but  it  recognised  also  the  servant  who  is  the  help  of  the 
family — the  famulus.^ 

Family  life  thus  constituted   implies    a    different  kind 

'  Pictet,  vol.  ii.  p.  19. 

"  Patar,  maiar,  words  found  in  all  the  Indo-European  languages. 
Greek,  TTarf'/p, /i//r*;p  ;  ha.tin,  pa/er,  mater;  Ang]o-S3.Kon,  faecier,  tiiodor  ; 
Old  German,  fa  tar,  moter.  Patar  is  from  the  root  pa,  tueri,  servare  ;  nidtar 
from  the  root  ma,  efficere,  creare.     Pictet,  vol.  ii.  p.  33. 

'  Sanscrit,  A/iw/a;-;  Zend,  braiar ;  Greek,  0p7;rr/() ;  \^?i.\\n,  f rater ;  Old 
Irish,  brdthir.     The  root  is  bhr,  bhar,  ferre,  sitstentare. 

*  Sanscrit,  svasar ;  Latin,  soror ;  Gothic,  svistar ;  Pictet  connects  the 
word  with  the  root  vas,  habitare  (ii.  p.  55).  Sister  signifies  she  who 
dwells  with  the  brother. 

^  The  name  barbarian  or  enemy  was  often  given  to  the  servant,  who 
was  regarded  as  a  slave,  one  of  the  conquered.  Pictet,  ii.  p.  6-9.  But 
there  are  traces  of  a  milder  slavery.  Arati,  in  Sanscrit,  signifies  helpei, 
Greek,  vTn]piTt}g;  Gothic  aims,  messenger;  from  the  Sanscrit  r,  ar,  in 
the  sense  of  adire,  colere,  servire. 


ii6    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 


of  shelter  from  the  cave  of  the  Troglodyte,  or  the  huts 
of  the  ancient  Lake-dwellers.  The  idiom  of  the  primitive 
Aryans  represents  a  real  house,  with  walls,  roof,  and 
even  the  hearth,  from  which  goes  up  the  smoke,  so  dear 
afterwards  to  the  Homeric  heroes.^  It  has  expressions 
also  for  the  weapons  of  the  chase,  and  of  warfare,  which 
are  described  by  analogous  terms  in  all  the  sister 
languages.^ 

Human  blood  was  recklessly  shed,  both  in  battle, 
and  by  the  assassin's  sword.  The  industrial  and  deco- 
rative arts  were  of  a  very  primitive  character.  The 
clothing  was  woven  instead  of  being  merely  the  skin  of 
a  beast.^  Iron  appears  to  have  been  unknown,  for  it  is 
the  only  one  of  the  metals  not  mentioned.  But  agriculture 
had  already  made  considerable  progress.  Wheat  and 
barley  were  cultivated.  All  existence  seems  associated 
with  agricultural  life.*  The  boy  is  the  one  who  cleans 
the  house  or  the  stable;  he  is  also  called  the  young 
calf.  The  girl  is  the  one  who  milks  the  cows.^  The 
pasture  is  the  great  field  of  hospitality.  There  the  host 
receives  the  stranger.  It  is  from  the  pastures  that  he 
derives  his  title  of  master.  He  is  master  first  of  the 
sheepfold,  then  of  the  tribe,^  lastly  of  the  nation.  The 
king  is  afterwards  called  the  shepherd  of  his  people. 

Property  is  already  recognised,  the  furrow  forming 
its  boundary.  The  true  wealth  is  work,  which  is  sy- 
nonymous with  gain,^  Agriculture  is  the  foundation  of 
wealth.  When  the  great  medium  of  exchange  is  created 
subsequently,  it  takes  its  name  from  the  possession  of 
cattle.     The    word    money   originally   signified    a   flock. ^ 


'  Sanscrit,  datiia  ;  Greek,  Sviiog;  Latin,  dounis ;  Irish,  dmnh  ;  ancient 
Slav,  domu.  The  root  would  be  dam,  to  bind  (binding  materials 
together),  Pictet,  ii.  p.  306. 

^  Pictet,  ii.  p.  266,  et  seq. 

^  Ibid.,  ii.  p.  380. 

*  Ibid.,  ii.  p.  loi,  et  seq. 

*  Sanscrit,  duliitar ;  Greek  Ovydrrip ;  German,  Tochter ;  from  duh,  to 
milk. 

*  Gopa — from  pa  tueri,  cowherd,  then  guardian,  head  of  the  village, 
lastly  king.     The  rcot  pa  gives  the  words  pastor,  father. 

'  Pictet,  iii.  p.  95-I15. 

*  Pecus. 


THE  PRIMITIVE  ARYANS.  117 

Weights  were  already  in  use,  which  imphes  some 
elementary  traffic.^ 

The  social  organisation  seems  to  have  risen  above  that 
of  the  mere  tribe,  for  we  hear  of  a  king  ;  but  the  form  of 
government  was  still  very  vague.  Royalty  was  doubtless 
only  an  extension  or  generalisation  of  the  paternal  power. 
This  nascent  society  knew  how  to  protect  itself  against 
disorder ;  it  had  its  system  of  penal  justice,  with  judges, 
witnesses,  and  punishments.^  The  idea  of  the  majesty 
of  justice  was  expressed  by  an  admirable  word,  for  laio 
signifies  sometimes  that  which  is  imperishable,  sometimes 
that  which  is  established  or  ordered,  proclaimed,  known  of 
all,  sometimes  that  which  is  right}  Hence  that  sublime 
expression  which  makes  the  moral  law  the  indestructi- 
ble foundation  of  the  State,  the  very  basis  of  the  written 
law  and  of  established  custom,  of  which  it  is  the  sole 
sanction.  An  offence  is  called  a  transgression,  that  which 
breaks  through  law.* 

If  from  the  social  life,  in  which  the  moral  idea  thus 
asserted  its  supremacy,  we  rise  to  the  religious  life,  we 
shall  be  struck  with  the  value  attached  to  man  as  an 
individual  in  the  admirable  psychology  which  may  be 
summed  up  in  a  few  words.  We  find  the  distinction 
already  marked  between  the  soul,  the  breath  of  life,^  and 
the  intellect,  the  thinking  power,  which  makes  man  a 
reasonable  being.  Man  is  called  distinctively  the  thinker.^ 
This  soul,  endowed  with  intelligence,  goes  on  existing  after 

'  Pictet,  iii.  p.  1 1 5. 

^  Ibid.,  iii.  p.  145,  et  seq. 

*  See  these  various  designations  of  law  :  1st  dhanna,  from  the  root 
dhr,  dliar,  poiiere,  finniter  stare ;  Old  Irish,  dlr,  justits  ;  2nd  From  the  root 
dha,  ponere ;  Zend,  ddo ;  in  Greek,  O'itD,  whence  B'tixig  and  dea/xoi,  law, 
right,  custom,  Old  German,  tdiii,  tiiom,  Scand.,  doin  ;  3rd  Sanscrit,  D/f, 
onder,  precept  from  dif,  indicare ;  Greek,  Z'ik^,  justice,  law;  V-Aixn,  judex, 
judge;  4th  Veda,  vidyd,  knowledge;  from  vld,  scire,  noscere ;  Goth, 
vitotht;  5th  rgu,  right;  Latin,  rego,  rectus,  etc.;  Goth.,  railits ;  German, 
recht,  Ibid.,  vol.  iii.  p.  138,  ct  seq. 

*  Ibid.,  iii.  p.  I46. 

*  Sanscrit,  ati,  breath;    in  Greek,  avffioq,  breath;    0p)>, — ecos    soul 
Latin,  aniiiia  ;  Irish,  a  nail ;  Ibid.,  iii.  p.  275. 

•*  Sanscrit,  maims,  intelligence ;  Zend,  man,  to  think  ;  Latin,  mens  ; 
Goth.,  munan,  to  think,  to  will ;  Old  German,  manon.  Man  is  described 
as  the  thinking  being.  Sanscrit,  manu.  To  this  etymology  may  be 
traced  the  Greek  Minos.  In  Gothic  we  find  man  as  in  German. 
Ibid.,  iii.  p.  281,  et  seq. 


ii8    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

death.  Incineration  was  the  prevaiHng  custom ;  but  judging 
from  the  universal  practices  of  Indo-European  nations,  the 
funeral  ceremonies  were  accompanied  with  sacrifices,  the 
original  form  of  which  seems  to  have  been  the  immolation 
of  a  cow,  so  that  the  herdsman  might  be  able  to  carry  on 
in  another  world  his  wonted  occupation.^  We  find  also 
among  all  nations  of  the  Aryan  race,  the  idea  of  a  river 
to  be  crossed,  and  a  conflict  to  be  maintained  with  the 
,  powers  of  evil.  The  Greek  Cerberus  came  from  the 
plains  of  the  Caucasus. 

With  regard  to  what  may  be  properly  called  religious 
ideas,  we  must  be  careful  not  to  accept  unproved  hy- 
potheses. It  appears  certain  that  the  primitive  Aryans 
had  altogether  left  behind  the  animistic  period,  in  which 
religion  consisted  wholly  in  the  exorcising  of  demons  by 
sorcery.  They  retained,  indeed,  certain  magic  arts,  but 
these  were  not  regarded  as  of  primary  importance.^  They 
had  come  to  adore  the  stars  as  the  highest  manifestation 
of  the  deity.  Had  they  arrived  also  at  the  intuition  of  a 
vague  monotheism,  leading  them  to  recognise  a  supreme 
power  in  the  higfiest  heaven,  as  seems  suggested  by  their 
mode  of  expression?^  It  has  been  thought  that  this  might 
be  inferred  from  one  of  their  designations  of  the  divinity 
as  the  Supreme  Being.  Their  metaphysical  bias  renders 
this  possible,  but  we  have  no  means  of  arriving  at 
certainty.  If  the  negroes  of  the  Geld  Coast  have  been 
found  to  have  the  monotheistic  intuition,  we  can  feel  no 
difficulty  in  admitting  that  a  race  so  richly  gifted  as  the 
Aryans  may  have  possessed  it,  though  no  relics  of  a 
primitive  tradition  on  the  subject  have  come  down  to  us. 
In  any  case  this  monotheistic  intuition  is  but  a  lightning 
flash  athwart  the  darkness  of  the  night.  The  prevailing 
idea  of  the  divinity  always  identifies  him  closely  with  the 
grandest  and  most  striking  cosmic  phenomena,  and  prim- 
arily, therefore,  with  the  great  luminaries  of  the  heavens 


'  Pictet,  p.  233,  et  seq. 

""  Ibid.,  iii.  p.  388. 

'  Deva,  which  according  to  Pictet  applies  to  the  abstract  divinity,  would 
be  distinguished  as  a  substantive  from  the  more  general  word  Div,  and 
would  stand  for  the  Celestial  One.  It  would  correspond  to  the  Greek 
Btos,  and  the  Latin  Deus.     Ibid.,    iii.  p.  414. 


THE  PRIMITIVE  ARYANS.  119 


and  with  the  heaven  itself.  The  word  used  for  heaven 
represents  to  all  Indo-European  nations,  the  great  mys- 
terious power,  the  object  of  their  worship.  Dyaus  is 
heaven  personified.^ 

The  Vedic  Varuna,  the  prototype  of  the  Greek  Uranos, 
belongs  to  the  same  period.  The  sun,  respresented  as  the 
centre  of  light  under  the  name  Surya,  and  as  the  produc- 
tive power  under  the  name  Savitar,  is  worshipped  among 
the  principal  Aryan  nations.  All  alike  offer  their  adora- 
tion to  the  dawn,^  to  the  earth,  to  the  elements,  fire  and 
water,  air  and  wind.^  The  primitive  Aryans  had  an  ele- 
mentary mythology,  in  which  it  is  easy  to  trace  the  pastoral 
and  agricultural  character  of  their  lives.  The  clouds  ap- 
peared to  them  as  celestial  cows,  and  the  sun,  the  great 
producer  of  life,  as  the  bull.*  AH  the  Indo-European 
languages  agree  in  describing  worship  as  a  prostration 
of  the  soul  in  fear,  veneration  and  love.'  Sacrifice  is  its 
necessary  expression.  The  idea  of  holiness  seems  de- 
rived from  that  of  light  and  purity.*' 

There  is  only  one  word  for  faith  in  all  these  languages, 
and  it  always  stands  for  trust  and  respect.^  Its  first 
meaning,  like  that  of  religion,  is  really  that  which  unites 
to  the  divinity.  Prayer  is  described  by  the  same  word, 
whether  it  is  addressed  to  gods  or  men.  It  is  supplica- 
tion, desire,  praise  or  complaint.^  Sacrifice  is,  according 
to  the  etymology,  essentially  a  libation.^ 

Such  are  the  principal  elements  of  the  social  and  reli- 
gious life  of  the  primitive  Aryans.  These  pastoral  people 
were  pre-eminently  poets  and  thinkers,  and  they  preserve 
these  two  characteristics  however  widely  they  may  be  scat- 
tered. We  have  now  to  follow  them  into  the  various  fields 
of  history,  where  each  will  make  his  own  furrow,  and  work 


'  The  Greek  T^tvq,  and  the  Latin  Dens,  correspond  to  Dyans. 
2  Pictet,  iii.  p.  438. 
■^  Ibid.,  iii.  p.  443,  et  seq. 
^  Ibid.,  ii.  p.  87. 

^  Sanscrit,   nam,  inclinare  ;  hence,   namas,  veneration ;  Zend,  nemanlt, 
adoration  ;  Greek,  vs/iw  ;  Goth.,  niman.     Ibid.,  iii.  p.  461. 
*Zend,  asha,  purity,  holiness;  Greek  oaioQ.     Ibid.,  iii.  p.  467. 
'  Ibid.,  iii.  p.  470 

*  Sanscrit,  prach,  laudare  ;  Zend,  pereg ;  Latin,  precor.     Ibid.,  p.  472. 

*  Sanscrit,  Am,   sacrificare,  libare;  Greek  x^^^j  x^^"-     Ibid.,  p.  476. 


120   THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 


out  on  different  lines,  under  the  combined  influence  of 
new  environments  and  new  associations,  the  elemental 
religion  brought  from  the  common  cradle  of  the  race.  We 
shall  see  under  what  new  aspects  they  will  come  to  regard 
that  divinity  of  the  heavens,  before  whom  they  had  all 
bowed  together  in  the  early  daj^s  of  their  common  faith. 
We  shall  see  how  the  Aryans  of  the  East,  by  placing  the 
deity  altogether  outside  the  visible,  reduce  him  to  a  mere 
metaphysical  idea,  to  an  absolute  so  vague,  that  it  is  but 
a  step  removed  from  utter  negation.  The  Aryans  of  the 
West,  on  the  other  hand,  at  least  in  the  great  centres  of 
ancient  civilisation,  bring  their  god  down  out  of  the  heavens, 
and  fashion  him  after  their  own  human  image.  But  in 
both  directions  the  religious  evolution  will  be  gradual  and 
long.  Let  us  trace  it  first  in  Eastern  lands,  where  the  two 
Aryan  nations  most  nearly  allied  to  each  other  soon  take 
divergent  lines. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE  RELIGION  OF  ZOROASTER.^ 
§  I. — Historical  Survey. 

IRAN  is  that  vast  plain  which  lies  between  the  Tigris 
and  the  Indus  on  the  one  side,  and  the  Indian  Ocean 
and  the  Caspian  Sea  on  the  other.  No  district  presents 
more  striking  contrasts  than  this.  Vast  steppes  abut  on 
fields  of  singular  fruitfulness.  A  burning  sun  parches  the 
ground  in  one  spot,  and  at  the  same  moment  the  neigh- 
bouring districts  are  benumbed  with  wintry  frosts. 

The  Vendidad,  the  sacred  book  of  Iran,  says  :  "  Upon 
the  material  world  the  fatal  winters  are  going  to  fall  that 
shall  bring  the  fierce  frost.  Upon  the  material  world  the 
fatal  winters  are  going  to  fall  that  shall  make  snowflakes 
thick,  even  an  aredvi  deep  on  the  highest  tops  of  the 
mountains.  And  all  the  three  sorts  of  beasts  shall  perish  ; 
those  that  live  in  the  wilderness,  and  those  that  live  on 

'  France  has  had  a  large  share  in  the  discovery  of  the  texts  of  the  sacred 
books  of  Persia.  Anquetil  Duperron  brought  back  from  his  heroic  expe- 
dition to  Surat,  the  Parsee  translation  of  the  Avesta,  which  he  had  ob- 
tained with  great  difficulty  from  the  Parsees.  It  was  very  defective,  for 
it  had  been  made  at  a  period  when  the  true  meaning  of  the  Parsee 
language  was  in  great  part  lost.  Hence  it  was  vehemently  disputed, 
especially  by  William  Jones.  Burnouf  found  a  Sanscrit  translation  of 
the  Yasna  made  by  the  Parsees  of  Guzerat.  By  using  the  methods  of 
comparative  philology,  he  interpreted  the  famous  cuneiform  inscriptions 
of  Persepolis.  There  he  read  the  names  of  the  great  Persian  kings,  the 
Achaemenides.  This  gave  the  key  to  their  ancient  sacred  language.  His 
Commentary  on  the  Yasna  is  still  very  valuable.  (See  "  Essais  orien- 
taux,"  by  J.  Darmestetter  ;  "  I'Orientalisme  en  France.")  The  volume  on 
the  religion  of  Persia,  in  the  collection  of  Oriental  books  published 
under  the  direction  of  Max  Muller  is  hy  Darmestetter.  He  introduces  his 
tianslation  by  an  admirable  preface.  See  "  Ormazd  and  Ahriman," 
by  the  same  author.  We  refer  the  reader  also  to  Spiegel's  translation, 
"Die  heilie.  Schriften  der  Parsen ;  "  Leipzig,  1852;  and  to  the  books 
already  quctsj  on  the  history  of  Eastern  nations. 


122    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

the  tops  of  the  mountains,  and  those  that  live  in  the  bosom 
of  the  dale,  under  the  shelter  of  stables."  ^ 

It  is  especially  in  Bactria  and  Sogdiana  that  these 
strong  contrasts  of  climate  occur.  Between  the  moun- 
tains there  are  fertile  valleys,  clothed  with  luxuriant 
vegetation  ;  beyond  these  stretch  limitless  barren  solitudes. 
While  the  stars  were  shining  pure  and  serene  in  the  clear 
air  of  Iran,  the  violent  wind  sweeping  across  the  steppes 
brought  mists  and  raised  clouds  of  dust.  The  population 
of  the  two  countries  dilTered  as  widely  as  the  soil  and 
climate.  On  the  one  hand,  a  peaceful  and  industrious 
people  gave  themselves  to  field  labour;  on  the  other, 
nomad  tribes  led  a  savage  and  warlike  life,  perpetually 
making  fierce  irruptions  into  Iran.  The  inhabitants  of 
Bactria  were  thus  led  to  look  upon  the  cold  country  as  an 
accursed  land  given  over  to  evil  spirits.  The  Medes  and 
Persians  shared  this  vast  domain  between  them.  The  former 
occupied  the  north,  the  latter  the  south-east.  They  had 
a  common  origin,  and  both  had  the  same  primitive  reli- 
gious conception — that  namely,  which  predominated  among 
the  Aryans  before  their  dispersion,  and  which  found  its 
most  complete  expression  in  the  Rig-Veda.  Persia  ad- 
hered faithfully  to  this  so  long  as  she  remained  alone,  and 
even  after  her  subjection  by  the  Medes,  she  clung  to 
her  old  belief  as  to  the  last  rampart  of  her  nationality, 
while  her  powerful  neighbours  had  already  entered  on  a 
new  phase  of  religious  evolution.  There  is  reason  to 
suppose  that  direct  contact  with  Chaldean  civilisation, 
gave  a  powerful  stimulus  to  the  Medes  in  the  path  of 
progress. 

This  contact  led  to  a  great  struggle  which  assured  to  the 
Medes  for  a  time  the  hegemony  of  Western  Asia ;  but  it 
was  not  till  they  had  themselves  been  subdued  by  Cyrus, 
that  they  exerted  any  considerable  influence  upon  Persia 
through  the  superior  cultiv^ation  of  their  magi,  the  vigilant 
guardians  of  their  traditions.  The  religion  of  Iran  was 
not,  however,  for  a  long  time  thoroughly  accepted  by  the 
conquerors,  if  we  may  judge  from  the  inscriptions  placed 
by  Darius  and  his  successors  upon  the  walls  of  their 
palaces.  It  would  be  unreasonable,  of  course,  to  expect 
'  Vendidad,  ii.  23,  24.     Translated  by  James  Darmestetter. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  ZOROASTER.  123 

to  find  in  such  inscriptions  anything  like  a  complete 
resume  of  a  very  elaborate  religious  system  ;  but  it  is 
clear  that  while  these  inscriptions  give  the  first  place  to 
the  great  god  of  Media,  as  creator  of  heaven  and  earth 
and  benefactor  of  men,  and  while  they  make  the  king  his 
protege  and  representative,  they  do  not  attribute  to  him 
the  absolute  supremacy  accorded  to  him  in  the  Vendidad. 
They  associate  in  his  worship,  Mithra,  the  sun-god,  and 
but  few  traces  of  dualism  are  to  be  found  in  them.  The 
State  religion,  therefore,  long  gave  a  larger  place  to 
polytheism  than  was  assigned  to  it  in  the  sacred  books  of 
the  magi.  The  magi,  so  far  from  modifying  their  doctrine 
under  the  new  influences  brought  to  bear  on  them, 
carried  it  to  its  extreme  consequences,  assigning  a  higher 
and  higher  place  to  Zoroaster  in  their  worship. 

The  history  of  the  ancient  empire  of  Persia  is  divided 
into  three  periods.  The  first,  the  Achsemenian  era,  in- 
augurated by  Cyrus  about  560  b.c.  This  ended  with  the 
defeat  of  Darius  at  Arbela,  331  B.C.  To  him  we  owe  the 
inscriptions  already  mentioned.  The  Persian  power  was 
then  at  its  zenith.  Cyrus  had  subdued  Media,  Babylonia, 
and  Lydia,  and  under  Cambyses  Egypt  was  conquered, 
but  only  for  a  short  time.  Under  Darius  the  Persian 
power  spread  eastward  as  far  as  the  Indus,  and  to  the 
west  it  crossed  the  seas  which  divided  it  from  Europe,  to 
dash  itself  vainly  against  the  Athenian  galleys.  From 
that  time  it  confined  itself  within  the  borders  of  Asia, 
and  through  the  genius  of  Darius,  the  son  of  Hystaspes 
(523-585),  it  organised  for  two  centuries  the  greatest 
empire  Asia  had  ever  yet  seen. 

During  this  period,  the  king  became,  as  in  Assyria  and 
Egypt,  a  very  god  upon  earth,  adored  rather  than  obeyed, 
for  he  was  the  object  of  a  devotion  scarcely  less  than 
religious.  We  shall  see  that  this  prostration  of  the 
entire  nation  before  the  king  was  quite  in  accordance 
with  its  religious  feeling.  The  influence  of  the  magi, 
meanwhile,  became  more  and  more  powerful,  especially 
under  Cambyses, 

The  victorious  sword  of  Alexander  inaugurated  the 
second  era,  by  cutting  in  pieces  the  armies  of  the  Great 
King.     Under  the  reign  of  the  lieutenants,  his  immediate 


124    THE  ANCIEN2  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

successors,  Persia  lost  more  and  more  of  her  distinctive 
characteristics,  without  any  compensating  gain  from  her 
association  with  the  genius  of  Greece,  already  much  de- 
generated. 

The  Parthians,  in  260,  took  possession  of  Persia. 
Their  kings,  who  founded  the  dynasty  of  the  Arsacides, 
reconquered  the  whole  of  Iran,  but  being  incessantly  at 
war  with  Rome,  they  endeavoured  to  diffuse  throughout 
the  country  the  influence  of  Greece,  to  which  they  them- 
selves had  completely  yielded,  though  still  remaining  in 
many  respects,  sons  of  the  Caspian  deserts. 

Their  sway,  however,  was  but  brief,  and  they  never 
struck  root  in  Iran.  Thus  when  they  were  forced  to 
yield  the  dominion  to  princes  coming  from  the  cradle  of 
the  Persian  nationality,  from  the  very  country  of  Cyrus, 
they  left  no  abiding  traces  behind  them.  Before  their 
departure,  however,  the  later  Arsacides  had  tried  to  win 
popularity  by  favouring  the  religion  of  the  magi.  Vologeses 
(King  Valkash)  even  tried  to  search  for  and  collect  all  the 
fragments  of  the  Avesta.  This  attempt  to  restore  the 
religion  of  the  magi  really  succeeded  under  the  first  of 
the  Sassanians,  who  began  by  being  one  of  the  local  kings 
of  Persia.  The  doctrine  of  Zoroaster  was  now  actually 
raised  to  the  throne.  Shapur  II.,  the  contemporary  of 
Constantine,  issued  the  authorised  edition  of  the  Zend- 
Avesta.  The  Sassanian  Empire  lasted  for  four  centuries. 
It  had  been  undermined  by  despotism  and  intolerance,  so 
that  it  was  easijy  overthrown,  and  with  the  Mussulman 
conquest  the  religion  of  Mahomet  was  forcibly  introduced. 
The  Sassanides  are  only  memorable  for  having  handed 
down  to  us  the  sacred  books  of  the  religion  of  Zoroaster.  ^ 

§  II. — Basis  of  the  Religion  of  Iran.^ 

At  the  basis  of  the  religion  of  Iran,  we  find  not  only 
the   same   elementary  belief   as  among  all  the  primitive 

'  "The  Sacred  Books  of  the  East,"  edited  by  Max  Muller,  vol.  iv.  Intro- 
duction. 

*  See  Darmestetter,  "Ormazd  et  Ahriman."  M.  de  Harlez,  ("Journal 
Asiatique,"  1882,  p.  507),  has  called  in  question  the  value  attached  by 
Darmestetter  to  the  myth  of  the  storm,  and  consequently,  the  original 


THE  RELIGION  OF  ZOROASTER.  125 

Aryans  before  their  dispersion,  but  also  complete  identity 
with  what  may  be  called  the  very  foundation  of  the  religion 
of  the  Vedas.  Undoubtedly  as  early  as  the  epoch  of  the 
Vedas,  there  is  a  very  marked  difference  between  the  two 
religions,  but  the  fundamental  agreement  is  none  the  less 
complete.  The  Aryans  who  emigrated  into  Iran  brought 
with  them  into  their  new  country  the  same  religious 
beliefs  as  were  held  by  their  brethren  who  remained  be- 
hind, although  it  cannot  be  questioned  that  they  quickly 
modified  them.  This  seems  very  clear  from  numerous 
passages  in  their  sacred  books,  in  which  we  can  trace  as 
it  were  the  vestiges  of  an  earlier  age,  for  they  are  not  in 
harmony  with  the  prevailing  religious  conception  of  the 
time  to  which  they  belong. 

In  both,  the  great  divinity  is  the  sun-god  who  has 
produced  the  world  of  light  and  purity.  Ahura  Mazda  or 
Ormazd  "  is  white,  bright,  seen  afar,  and  his  body  is  the 
greatest  and  fairest  of  all  bodies.  He  has  the  sun  for  his 
eye,  the  rivers  above  for  his  spouses,  the  fire  of  lightning 
for  his  son  ;  he  wears  the  heaven  as  a  star-spangled 
garment ;  he  puts  on  the  hard  stone  of  heaven,  he  is  the 
hardest  of  all  gods.  He  dwells  in  the  infinite  luminous 
space,  and  the  infinite  luminous  space  is  his  place,  his 
body."^  The  resem.blance  of  Ormazd  to  the  Vedic  Varuna 
in  his  original  form  before  he  was  spiritualised,  is  very 
striking.  The  Amesha  Spentas,  which  are  emanations 
from  Ormazd,  remind  us  of  the  Vedic  Adityas.  Mithra 
represents  the  heavenly  light  in  both  religions  in  their 
earliest  form.  The  spiritualisation  of  light,  by  which  it  is 
invested  with  a  moral  character,  is  common  to  the  primitive 

identity  of  the  religion  of  Iran  with  that  of  the  Vedas.  He  considers 
the  reUgion  of  Iran  to  have  had  much  more  originahty  in  its  elementary 
religious  ideas,  which  he  thmks  were  derived  in  the  first  place  from  the 
fundamental  religious  intuitions  in  the  human  soul,  though  afterwards 
largely  modified.  We  are  convinced,  however,  that  the  community  of 
origin  cannot  be  disproved.  Darmestettcr  admits,  moreover,  that 
the  religion  of  Iran  quickly  set  its  seal  upon  these  elementary  truths. 
(See  his  Introduction  to  the  translation  of  the  Vcndidad).  As  to  the 
legend  of  Yima,  as  we  find  it  in  Fargard  ii.  of  the  Vendidad,  we  admit 
with  M.  Harlez  that  it  approaches  much  more  nearly  to  the  Semitic 
tradition  of  the  deluge,  than  to  the  Yima  of  the  Vedas.  But  the  later 
date  of  this  legend  explains  this  resemblance. 
'  Vendidad,  Introduction,  pp.  58,  60. 


126    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

beliefs  of  both  peoples  before  their  separation.  The  clear 
shining  of  the  light  is  identified  with  purity.  The  day- 
star  represents  in  Iran  moral  good  in  all  its  forms, — 
good  thoughts,  good  words,  good  deeds.  In  the  Vedas, 
the  divine  eyes,  which  are  at  first  merely  the  rays  of  the 
sun,  afterwards  become  searchers  of  the  heart  of  man. 
Light  discerns  truth  and  is  itself  truth.  Dualism,  which 
is  the  most  characteristic  trait  of  the  religion  of  Iran, 
has  its  root  in  the  beliefs  common  to  both  religions. 
In  both  we  find  the  serpent  which  represents  the  cloud, 
enwrapping  the  sun  in  its  folds  and  so  darkening  its 
shining,  but  in  the  end  to  be  overcome  by  the  sun-god 
though  he  has  been  for  a  moment  vanquished,  that  is  to 
say,  obscured  by  it.  The  myth  of  the  bull  (the  seed  of 
which,  after  the  animal  has  been  made  a  sacrifice,  is  to 
become  the  source  of  all  fraitfulness)  is  common  to  them 
both.  So  also  is  the  myth  of  the  god-man,  the  son  of 
the  waters  of  heaven,  who  in  his  turn  is  to  die  before  he 
can  conquer.  The  bull,  which  in  the  Vedas  represents 
cloud,  is  called  in  the  Avesta,  the  "son  of  the  waters." 
Without  attempting  to  reduce  the  symbolism  of  the  religion 
of  the  Avesta  to  the  myth  of  the  storm,  representing  the 
drama  of  nature  in  three  acts — the  coming  of  the  light, 
its  momentary  withdrawal,  and  its  dazzling  return — it  must 
be  admitted  that  this  plays  an  important  part  in  it.  We 
are  thus  carried  back  to  the  Vedic  myths,  in  which  Indra 
fills  the  first  place.  It  is  true  that  in  Iran  this  myth 
receives  a  new  and  far  higher  meaning.  The  two  religions 
indeed  rapidly  diverge,  and  we  must  now  inquire  what  is 
the  distinctive  character  of  the  religion  of  Zoroaster.^ 

§   III. — The    Religion    of    Zoroaster. 

The  great  Iranian  god  rises  steadily  higher  and  higher 
above    his    visible    manifestation    in    the    clear    light    of 

'  The  Zend-Avesta  or  Book  of  the  Law  consists  of  the  following  books  : 
1st,  the  Vendidad  in  22  chapters,  a  dialogue  between  Ahura  Mazda 
and  Zoroaster.  2nd,  The  Visperad  (27  sections).  3rd,  The  Yasna 
(170  sections).  These  two  collections  are  combined  under  the  name 
of  the  Vendidad  Sadah.  4th,  The  Khorda  Avesta  or  small  Avesta,  a 
supplementary  collection  of  hymns.  5th,  the  Bundehesh,  which  is  of 
later  date  (Fehr,  "Encyclopedic  Lichtenberger  ").  The  collection  of  the 
sacred  books  of  the  religion  of  Iran  was  made  in  the  time  of  the  early 


THE  RELIGION  OF  ZOROASTER.  i2-j 

heaven.  He  is  primarily  intellect  and  purity.  He  is 
adored  as  "  Heavenly  Wisdom,"  "  the  Wise  One,  the 
Wisest  of  the  Wise."  In  the  beginning  of  time  he 
establishes  the  order  which  keeps  the  sun  and  the  stars 
in  their  courses ;  he  fixes  the  earth  without  support ;  he 
sets  in  motion  the  winds  and  the  clouds  ;  he  gives  back 
the  beloved  son  to  his  father  that  he  may  rear  him.^ 

The  Ized  form  the  militia  of  Ahura  Mazda.  The 
highest  order  of  these  are  the  Amesha  Spentas,  six  "  im- 
mortal saints."  These  are  rather  deified  attributes  of  the 
supreme  god  than  his  subordinates,  and  divide  among  them 
the  empire  of  the  world. ^  Their  very  names  indicate 
their  metaphysical  character;  they  are,  in  fact,  good 
thought,  excellent  holiness,  perfect  sovereignty,  divine 
piety,  health  and  immortality.  Ahura  Mazda  is  not  only 
supreme  among  the  gods,  he  is  the  father  of  them  all. 
He  says,  "  Mithra,  the  lord  of  wide  pastures,  I  have 
created  as  worthy  of  sacrifice,  as  worthy  of  glorification 
as  I,  Ahura  Mazda,  am  myself."  The  friends  of  the  dead 
and  the  guardian  genii  of  the  living  are  worshipped  under 
the  name  of  the  Fervers.^     In  contrast  Vv'ith  the  supreme 

Arsacides.  According  to  the  Elder  Pliny  ("  Plist.  Nat.,"  xxx.  6),  Tiridates 
brother  to  Vologeses  was  one  of  the  magi.  Tacitus  says  he  was  like 
Vologeses  himself,  greatly  attached  to  his  religion  ("Annal.,"  xx.  24), 
Pliny's  assertion  is  thus  confirmed;  Tiridates  only  completed  the  work 
of  tlie  Arsacides.  That  the  books  themselves  are  of  a  much  earlier  date 
than  the  Arsacides  is  proved  by  the  language  used,  which  corresponds 
exactly  to  that  of  the  insciiptions  of  the  Achaemenian  era.  Pausanias 
alludes  to  the  hymns  sung  by  the  magi  (v.  27.  3).  According  to  Pliny 
("  Hist.  Nat.,"  xxxiii.  i,  2),  Hermippus,  three  centuries  before  Christ, 
gave  an  analysis  of  the  books  of  Zoroaster.  What  we  know,  moreover, 
of  the  ideas  of  the  Persians  in  the  time  of  the  Achaemenides,  corresponds 
perfectly  with  the  contents  of  their  sacred  books  (Plutaich.  "  Isis  and 
Osiris,"  46,  47).  The  Iranian  religion  was  in  existence  then,  substantially, 
in  the  time  of  Alexander,  at  least  as  professed  by  the  magi  who  alone 
possessed  it  in  its  higher  form.  It  was  as  yet  far  from  having  trans- 
formed the  religion  of  the  Persians,  though  it  exercised  a  very  important 
influence  upon  it.  In  short,  the  original  text  of  the  Avesta  is  not  the 
work  of  the  Persians.  It  was  written  by  the  magi  in  their  language  and 
expresses  their  religious  convictions  in  the  time  of  the  Achajmenides. 
(Darmestetter,  Introduction  to  his  translation).  We  take  our  quotations 
mainly  from  Darmestetter's  translation  of  the  Vcndidad.  For  the  other 
sacred  books,  see  Spiegel's  translation. 

'  Yasna,  xliii.  2. 

^  Vendidad,  Introd.  Ixi. 

'  Yasna,  Ixv.  5. 


128    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANFTY. 

god,  the  god  of  purity  and  life,  we  have  the  great 
adversary  Ahriman,  who  is  the  principle  of  evil,  and  the 
author  of  death.  He  has  called  into  existence  a  sort 
of  counter-creation,  in  which  malevolent  spirits  seek  to 
thwart  the  good  genii  of  Ormazd.  "  Thus  speaks  Ahura 
Mazda,  the  Holy  One,  unto  thee  :  I,  Ahura  Mazda,  the 
maker  of  all  good  things,  when  I  made  this  mansion,  the 
beautiful,  the  shining  seen  afar,  (there  may  I  go  up,  there 
may  I  pass  ! )  then  the  ruffian  looked  at  me ;  the  ruffian 
Angra  Mainzu,  the  deadly,  wrought  by  his  witchcraft 
nine  diseases,  and  ninety  and  nine  hundred,  and  nine 
thousand  and  nine  times  nine  thousand  diseases."  ^ 

The  army  of  evil  is  ranged  in  battle  array  against  the 
army  of  good,  and  a  tremendous  conflict  commences  in 
all  the  spheres  in  the  heavens,  where  it  takes  the  form 
of  storms  and  tempests,  and  upon  earth  where  it  spreads 
from  kingdom  to  kingdom.^ 

The  decisive  conflict  takes  place  upon  the  sacred  soil 
of  Iran,  the  part  of  creation  best  beloved  by  Ormazd. 
"The  first  of  the  good  lands  and  countries  which  I, 
Ahura  Mazda,  created,  was  the  Airyana  Vaego  by  the 
good  river  Daitza.  Thereupon  came  Angra  Mainzu,  who 
is  all  death,  and  he  counter-created  by  his  witchcraft  the 
serpent  in  the  river,  and  winter,  a  work  of  the  Daevas."  ^ 

Every  part  of  the  country  has .  its  particular  plague, 
wrought  by  Ahriman  in  opposition  to  Ormazd.  This 
principle  runs  throughout  the  universe.  The  contest  was 
chiefly  between  the  principle  of  life  and  the  principle  of 
death.  The  best  way  of  honouring  the  former  was  to  do 
everything  possible  for  the  production  and  expansion  of 
life,  for  the  creation  itself  is  a  divine  work.  It  is  as  the 
body  of  Ormazd.  He  is  the  maker  of  all  good  things — 
the  beautiful,  the  shining.^  Hence  natural  fruitfulness 
and  growth  is  to  be  exalted  as  the  good  law  of  Mazda. 
Trees,  cattle,  all  are  under  "  the  fair,  holy  blessing-spell. 


'  Vendidad,  Fargard  xxii.  2. 

^  That  the  conflict  goes  on  first  in  the  regions  of  the  air  is  shown  by  the 
part  assigned  to  fire  as  the  son  and  the  weapon  of  Ormazd.  Yasna,  xxxi. 
19.     Darmestetter,  "Ormazd  and  Ahriman." 

^  Vendidad,  Fargard  i.  3. 

''  Ibid.  xxii.  i 


THE  RELIGION  OF  ZOROASTER.  i2(j 

the  friendly,  holy  blessing-spell,  that  makes  the  empty  swell 
to  fulness  and  the  full  to  overflowing."  ^  The  principal 
object  of  prayer  is  to  ask  of  Ormazd  that  this  his  benedic- 
tion may  come  upon  all  his  creatures  both  man  and  beast, 
since  all  are  dependent  on  him  for  life  and  sustenance. 
Hence  the  worshipper  prays  that  waters  from  the  spring 
may"  flow  and  overflow  and  run  to  the  beautiful  places  and 
fields  and  to  the  pastures,  even  to  the  roots  of  the  plants, 
that  they  may  grow  with  a  powerful  growth."  ^ 

The  father  who  has  a  large  family  around  him,  and  gets 
rich  harvests  from  the  land,  is  a  priest  of  Ormazd.  The 
best  place  upon  earth,  next  to  the  place  where  worship  is 
offered,  is  the  home  which  the  worshipper  has  made  for 
himself,  and  where  he  provides  for  his  comfort,  his 
wife,  his  children,  and  his  cattle.  "  O  Maker  of  the 
material  world,  thou  Holy  One,"  says  the  worshipper, 
''  which  is  the  second  place  where  the  earth  feels  most 
happy  ?  " 

Ahura  Mazda  answers  :  "  It  is  the  place  whereon  one 
of  the  faithful  erects  a  house  with  a  priest  within,  with 
cattle,  with  a  wife,  with  children,  and  good  herds  within, 
and  wherein  afterwards  the  cattle  go  on  thriving,  holiness 
is  thriving,  fodder  is  thriving,  the  dog  is  thriving,  the  wife 
is  thriving,  the  fire  is  thriving,  and  every  blessing  of  life  is 
thriving.^  Again  :  "  O  Maker  of  the  material  world,  thou 
Holy  One,  what  is  the  food  that  fills  the  law  of  Mazda  ?  " 
Ahura  Mazda  answered  :  "  It  is  sowing  corn  again  and 
again.  He  who  sows  corn,  sows  holiness ;  he  makes  the 
law  of  Mazda  grow  higher  and  higher.'^ 

Asceticism  is  altogether  foreign  to  such  a  conception 
of  religion.  The  priest  is  to  teach  the  people  this  holy 
saying  :  "  That  a  man  must  eat  that  he  may  have  strength 
to  do  works  of  holiness,  strength  to  do  works  of  husbandry, 
strength  to  beget  children."^ 

The  law  of  Zoroaster  enjoins  sincerity  and  faithfulness 
to  the  plighted  word.  The  light  of  truth  ought  to  en- 
lighten  and  fill    the    soul    as   it   enlightens    the   material 

'  Vendidad,  xxii.  i. 

*  Zend  Avesta,  Part  ii.         Tir  Yast,  xi.  42. 
'  Vendidad,  i.  2,  3. 

*  Ibid.,  30,  31. 

*  Ibid.,  iTi.  33. 


/30    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

creation  of  Ormazd.  Purity  is  a  sacred  duty,  though 
there  are  no  fixed  laws  of  marriage,  and  polygamy  is 
allowed. 

The  preservation  of  purity  is  one  of  the  chief  con- 
ditions of  happiness  in  the  future  life.  Unnatural  crimes 
are  severely  punished  as  tending  to  sterility.^ 

Chastit}'  is  closely  connected  with  the  purification  of 
the  body  according  to  the  prescribed  rites.  It  is  declared 
that  "  purity  is  for  man,  next  to  life,  the  greatest  good  ; 
that  purity  that  is  procured  by  the  law  of  Mazda  to  him 
vi^ho  cleanses  his  own  self  with  good  thoughts,  words  and 
deeds.  This  is  the  best  of  all  things,  this  is  the  fairest  of 
all  things."  And  the  law  which  provides  for  it  is  "great, 
good  and  fair  above  all  other  utterances."  .  .  .  "As  much 
as  a  great  stream  flows  swifter  than  a  slender  rivulet,  so 
much  above  all  other  utterances  in  greatness,  goodness, 
and  fairness,  is  this  law,  this  fiend-destroying  law  of 
Zarathrustra.  As  high  as  the  great  tree  stands  above 
the  small  plants  it  overshadows,  so  high  above  all  other 
utterances  in  greatness,  goodness  and  fairness,  is  this 
law,  this  fiend-destroying  law  of  Zarathrustra."  ^ 

An  important  place  in  worship  is  assigned  to  sacrifice. 
The  offering  is  intended  to  strengthen  the  divine  cham- 
pions engaged  in  the  universal  conflict.  But  the  essential 
element  in  this  also  is  the  sacred  and  omnipotent  form 
of  words,  in  which  the  power  of  the  deity  is  present  to 
help.  In  its  lower  form,  it  is  simply  a  magic  formulary 
used  to  break  the  spells  of  the  demons.  The  worshipper 
is  directed  by  Ahura  Mazda  to  say :  "  I  drive  away 
Angra  Mainzu  from  this  house,  from  this  borough,  from 
this  town,  from  this  land  ....  from  the  whole  of  the 
holy  world."  ^  Then  follows  an  enumeration  of  all  the 
evil  spirits,  who  are  to  be  exorcised  by  the  repetition 
aloud  of  these  fiend-smiting  and  most  healing  words  : 
"  Perish  away  to  the  regions  of  the  north,  never  more 
to  give  unto  death  the  living  world  of  the  holy  spirit."^ 
These  sacred  formularies  act  directly  upon  the  gods. 
Prayer  has  a  purifying  effect  upon  both  worlds,  if  only 
it  be  offered  in   accordance    with  the    proper  rites.     To 

*  Vendidad,  xviii.  4.  *  Ibid.,  v.  21 — 24. 

^  Ibid.,  X.  13.      '  ■*  Ibid.,  ix.  27. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  ZOROASTER.  131 

glorify  the  lords  of  all  beings,  to  exalt  the  holy  waters, 
to  sing  sacred  hymns  is  to  counteract  the  power  of  the 
demons.  "  These  are  the  words  that  smite  down  Angra 
Mainzu  .  .  .  these  are  the  words  thai  smite  down  all  the 
Daev'as."  ^  "  Thou  shalt  chant  the  cleansing  words  and 
the  house  shall  be  clean ;  clean  shall  be  the  fire,  clean  the 
water,  clean  the  earth,  clean  the  cow,  clean  the  trees, 
clean  the  faithful  man  and  the  faithful  woman,  clean  the 
stars,  clean  the  moon,  clean  the  sun,  clean  the  boundless 
light,  clean  all  things  made  by  Mazda,  the  offspring  of 
the  holy  principle."  ^ 

This  virtue  attached  to  a  liturgy  has  always  had 
an  injurious  effect  upon  the  religious  life,  tending  to 
foster  mere  formalism.  All  merely  ritual  observances, 
however,  are  subordinate  to  a  pure  and  high  morality. 
"  There  is  many  a  one,  O  holy  Zarathrustra,"  said  Ahura 
Mazda,  "who  wears  a  Patidana,^  but  who  has  not  girded 
his  loins  with  the  law.  When  such  a  man  says,  I  am 
an  Atharvan  (priest),  he  lies  ;  do  not  call  him  an  Atharvan, 
holy  Zarathrustra,  thus  said  Ahura  Mazda."  ^ 

The  fire  upon  the  altar  is  never  to  be  allowed  to  go  out, 
for  it  represents  all  that  is  pure  and  divine.  Fire,  the  son 
of  Ahura  Mazda,  is  to  be  worshipped  and  served.  In  the 
first  part  of  the  night  he  calls  to  the  master  of  the  house  for 
help,  saying  :  "  Up,  arise  thou  master  of  the  house  !  put  on 
thy  girdle,  put  on  thy  clothes,  wash  thy  hands,  take  wood, 
bring  it  unto  me,  and  let  me  burn  bright  with  the  clean 
wood  carried  by  thy  well  washed  hands."  In  the  second 
part  of  the  night  he  calls  the  husbandman  ;  in  the  third, 
the  priest.  Then  bedfellows  address  one  another :  Rise 
up,  here  is  the  cock  calling  me  up  ;  whichever  of  the  two 
first  gets  up  shall  first  enter  paradise ;  whichever  of  the 
two  shall  first  with  well  washed  hands  bring  clean  wood 
unto  the  Fire,  son  of  Ahura  Mazda,  the  Fire,  well  pleased 
with  him  and  not  angry,  and  fed  as  it  required,  will  bless 
him.' 

At  dawn  the  cock,  the  sacred  bird,  lifts  up  his  voice 
and  says  :  "  Arise,  O  men,  and  recite  the  words  that  smite 

'  Vendidad,  x.  16.  '•^  Ibid.,  xi.  2. 

*  A  mouth  veil  worn  by  priests  or  others  when  praying. 

''  Vendidad   xviii.  i.  *  Ibid,  xviii.  26. 


132    7 HE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

down  the  Daevas.  For  the  three  'excellent  things  be 
never  slack,  namely,  good  thoughts,  good  words,  and 
good  deeds.  "  ^ 

Sacrifice  occupied  a  place  in  the  worship  a  little  lower 
than  the  sacred  formularies.  The  offering  of  libations  (the 
Haoma)  gives  victory  to  the  strong  when  it  is  accompanied 
with  "  the  wisdom  of  the  tongue,  with  the  holy  spells,  with 
the  Words,  with  the  deeds,  and  with  the  rightly  spoken 
words."  2 

The  Iranian  priest  par  excellence  is  one  of  the  magi, 
but  all  the  holy  race  are  called  to  take  part  in  the 
offering  of  sacrifice.  It  is  said  :  "I  call  to  the  sacrifice, 
the  priest,  the  warrior,  the  hardworking  husbandman, 
the  master  of  the  house,  of  the  tribe,  of  the  district,  the 
young  man  of  good  thoughts,  good  words,  good  deeds, 
those  who  are  married,  the  mistress  of  the  house,  the 
woman  who  does  well,  who  pleases  her  husband."  ^  The 
division  of  the  world  into  two  categories  of  beings,  the 
pure  and  the  impure,  makes  the  causes  of  defilement  very 
numerous.  All  contact  with  impurity  requires  cleansing. 
The  most  common  cause  of  defilement  was  touching 
any  dead  body.  Everything  in  any  way  connected  with 
death  brought  defilement,  and  shut  out  from  any  share  in 
the  worship.  Even  the  hair  and  nails  cut  off  from  the 
living  body  were  regarded  as  dead  matter,  and  supposed  to 
fall  into  the  possession  of  the  demon  and  to  become  the 
abode  of  death  and  uncleaness.* 

One  of  the  most  essential  features  of  the  religion  of 
Iran  is  the  important  part  assigned  to  man  in  the  conflict 
between  Ormazd  and  Ahriman.  The  first  act  of  the 
great  drama  is  enacted  in  the  heavens,  when  Ahriman 
creates  the  deadly  serpent.  This  serpent  only  quenches 
the  heavenly  luminary  for  a  time,  for  the  light  always  in 
the  end  breaks  through  the  enveloping  cloud.  Upon  earth 
Yima,  the  first  man,  the  typal  man,  reigned  over  a  happy 
race  in  a  paradisaical  region  ;  but  the  evil  being,  the  dark 
serpent  led   him  astray.     Through  his  lie,  the  primaeval 

'  Vendidad,  xviii.  26. 

*  Aban  Yast,  Part  ii.  25.     Zend  Avesta  p.  55- 

*  Vispcrsal,  iii.    17 — 20. 

*  Vendidad,  IiitroJ.  xvii. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  ZOROASIER.  133 

race  fell  into  sin  and  darkness,  and  under  the  empire  of 
the  power  of  evil.  There  was  we  are  told  no  heat,  no 
cold,  no  death,  no  evil  till  Yima,  the  first  man,  had 
listened  to  the  lying  words  of  the  serpent.  Then  he  fell 
terrified  to  the  earth.  The  heavenly  majesty  departed 
from  him  (under  the  form  of  a  bird)  and  passed  to  Mithra.^ 
Yima  failed  a  second  time  upon  the  earth  in  a  mysterious 
struggle.^ 

Left  to  itself  the  unhappy  race  of  man  could  not  tri- 
umph over  its  powerful  adversary.  It  was  reserved  to 
the  most  glorious  of  the  sons  of  Iran  to  slay  the  three- 
headed  serpent.^  In  fact  the  salvation  of  the  privileged 
race  inhabiting  the  sacred  land,  is  the  work  of  the  really 
divine  man  who  brings  to  it  the  word  of  truth  and  of 
deliverance.  Zoroaster,  who  from  a  simple  religious 
reformer  was  to  rise  to  the  rank  of  a  divine  being,  passed 
through  a  great  moral  conflict.'*  Assailed  by  the  Daevas, 
the  demons  who  are  the  soldiers  of  Ahriman,  he  en- 
countered them  with  the  invincible  weapon  of  prayer. 
The  tempter  says  to  him,  "  Renounce  the  good  law  of  the 
worshippers  of  Mazda,  and  thou  shalt  have  such  a  boon 
as  the  murderer  gained,  the  ruler  of  the  nations."  ^ 

Zoroaster  refuses,  and  prays  aloud  :  "  This  I  ask  thee, 
teach  me  the  truth,  O  Lord."  The  tempter  has  asked 
him  by  what  weapons  he  will  resist  his  creation  ?  To 
which  he  replied  :  By  "  the  sacred  mortar,  the  sacred  cup, 
the  Haoma,  the  words  taught  by  Mazda,  these  are  my 
weapons,  my  best  weapons  !  "  ^     In  fact,  as  soon  as  he 


'  Khorda  Avesta,  xxxv.  7,  40.    Yasma,  ix.  14,  21. 

^  Khorda  Avesta,  xxxv.  36. 

'  Vendidad,  xix.     Khorda  Avesta,  xxvii.  7 — 40. 

*  Zoroaster  or  Zarathrustra,  the  Shining  One,  was  born  in  Bactria, 
Having  fled  to  the  desert  to  escape  the  spectacle  of  evil,  he  brought  back 
with  him  his  doctrine,  which  owing  to  the  patronage  of  the  King  of 
Bactria,  quickly  spread.  Zoroaster  is  said  to  have  been  married  three 
times.  It  was  from  the  third  marriage,  contracted  in  a  higher  sphere, 
that  the  great  deliverer  was  looked  lor  to  complete  his  work.  The 
figure  of  Zoroaster  was  so  early  enveloped  in  the  myth  of  his  deiiication 
that  it  is  impossible  to  distinguish  the  basis  of  truth  in  his  history.  It 
appears  certain,  however,  that  a  religious  reformer  of  the  name  did  live 
(Fehr,  "  Encyclopedie  Lichtenberger"). 

*  Vendidad,  xix.  i,  6. 

*  Vendidad,  xix.,  describing  the  temptation  of  Zoroaster. 


134    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

uttered  the  holy  word,  the  demons  fled.  Thus  he  is  ex- 
tolled above  measure  as  the  conqueror  of  the  Daevas,  the 
mightiest  and  most  victorious  of  heavenly  beings.-^ 

The  soul  of  the  just  who  keeps  the  law  of  Zoroaster, 
is  delivered,  like  his  master,  from  the  evil  spirits.  His 
odyssey  is  beautifully  described  in  the  nineteenth  Far- 
gard  of  the  Vendidad,  which  does  not  belong  to  the 
earliest  period  of  the  religion  of  Zoroaster,  After  man  is 
dead,  in  the  third  night,  as  the  dawn  is  breaking,  the 
victorious  Mithra  takes  his  seat  in  dazzling  light  upon 
the  summit  of  the  mountain.  Then  the  fiend,  named 
Vivaresha,  carries  off  in  bonds  the  souls  of  the  wicked 
Daeva-worshippers  who  live  in  sin.  The  soul  enters  the 
way  made  by  Time,  and  open  both  to  the  wicked  and  to 
the  righteous.  At  the  head  of  the  Kinvad  bridge,  the 
holy  bridge  made  by  Mazda,  they  ask  for  their  spirits  and 
souls,  the  reward  for  the  worldly  goods  which  they  gave 
away  here  below. 

Then  comes  the  well-shapen,  strong,  and  tall-formed 
maid,  with  the  dogs  at  her  sides,  one  who  can  distinguish 
who  is  graceful,  who  does  what  she  wants,  who  is  of  high 
understanding. 

She  makes  the  soul  of  the  righteous  one  go  up  above 
the  Hara-berezaiti,^  above  the  Kinvad  bridge  she  places  it 
in  the  presence  of  the  heavenly  gods  themselves. 

Uprises  Vohu-mano^  from  his  golden  seat ;  Vohu- 
mano  exclaims :  "  How  hast  thou  come  to  us,  thou  holy 
one ;  from  that  decaying  world  into  this  undecaying 
one  ?  " 

"  Gladly  pass  the  souls  of  the  righteous  to  the  golden 
seat  of  Ahura  Mazda,  to  the  golden  seat  of  the  Amesha 
Spentas  ....  the  abode  of  all  the  other  holy  beings."* 

While  the  soul  is  raised  to  the  abode  of  the  shining 
ones,  the  body  of  the  deceased  is  laid  on  some  high  place. 
It  is  expressly  forbidden  to  burn  it,  for  this  would  be  a 
profanation  of  the  most  sacred  element :    nor  may  it  be 

'  Yasna,  ix.  43-47. 

^  The  heavenly  mountain  whence  the  sun  rises,  and  upon  which  the 
abode  of  the  gods  rests. 

^  The  door  keeper  of  paradise,  a  Zoroastrian  St.  Peter. 
*  Vendidad,  xix.  29 — 32. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  ZOROASTER.  135 

laid  in  the  earth,  for  this  also  is  holy,  like  all  the  creation 
of  Ormazd. 

"  O  maker  of  the  material  world,  thou  Holy  One ! 
Whither  shall  we  bring,  where  shall  we  lay  the  bones  of 
the  dear  one,  Ahura  Mazda  ?  " 

Ahura  Mazda  answered  :  "  The  worshippers  of  Mazda 
shall  erect  a  building  out  of  the  reach  of  the  dog,  the  fox, 
and  of  the  wolf,  and  wherein  rain-water  cannot  stay. 
Such  a  building  shall  they  erect,  if  they  can  afford  it, 
with  stones,  mortar  and  earth.  If  they  cannot  afford  it, 
they  shall  lay  down  the  dead  man,  on  the  ground,  on  his 
carpet  and  his  pillow,  clothed  with  the  light  of  heaven  and 
beholding  the  sun.  .  .  ."^ 

This  deliverance  of  individual  souls  is  not  enough  to 
ensure  the  victory  of  the  great  and  good  god.  His  final 
triumph  is  to  be  won  through  the  son  of  Zoroaster, 
Soshyos,  the  divine  combatant,  who  is  to  be  born  in  the 
end  of  time.  "  Then  Ahriman  is  to  be  destroyed,  and 
humanity,  the  daughter  of  Ormazd  will  rise  again  to  find 
paradise  at  length  regained.  The  victory  will  be  won  by? 
the  word  of  Ormazd  and  obedience  will  become  perfect.^ 
The  hero  god,  by  his  victorious  arms,  will  succour  all  the 
corporeal  world.  "  Before  him  all  the  Daevas  bow  for 
fear  and  fright  reluctantly  and  rush  away  to  darkness."^ 
He  is  thus  addressed  by  his  worshippers :  "  Unto  the 
holy  strong  Sraosha  (Soshyos),  who  is  the  incarnate  Word, 
a  mighty  and  well-speared  lord,  be  propitiation,  with  sacri- 
fice, prayer,  propitiation  and  glorification.  We  sacrifice 
unto  the  holy,  tall,  well-formed  fiend-smiting  Sraosha 
who  makes  the  world  increase,  the  holy  and  master  ol 
holiness.  .  .  .  The  holy  Sraosha,  the  best  protector  of  the 
poor  is  fiend-smiting.  ...  I  bless  the  sacrifice  and  prayer, 
the  strength  and  vigour  of  the  holy,  strong  Sraosha,  who 
is  the  incarnate  Word,  a  might3^-speared  and  lordly  god."* 
By  his  virtue  he  is  to  renovate  the  world,  to  free  it  from 
corruption  and  rottenness,  and  to  make  it  ever  living  and 

'  Vendidad,  vi.  49 — 51. 

"  Yasna  Ivi.  is  a  magnificent  hymn  to  Sraosha  or  Soshyos,  the  divine 
son  of  Zoroaster. 

*  Zend  Avesta,  Part  ii.     Srosh  Yast  Hadhdkht,  ii.  13. 

*  Ibid. 


136    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

ever  thriving,  when  the  dead  shall  rise  and  immortality 
commence." 

The  opposition  of  the  principles  of  light  and  darkness 
is  not  then  eternal.  The  good  god  will  bring  it  to  an  end. 
If  this  is  so,  are  we  to  suppose  that  originally  the  god 
of  evil  was  on  the  same  divine  level  as  Ormazd,  and  that 
he  was  thus  self  created  ?  One  passage  in  the  sacred 
books  speaks  of  them  as  twins  ;  but  have  they  an  equal 
right  to  be  ?  Whence  come  they  ?  The  later  sacred 
books  of  the  Persians,  which  have  evidently  been  modified 
and  added  to  as  the  result  of  contact  with  oriental  civilisa- 
tion, and  still  more  through  the  influence  of  Semitic 
traditions,  speak  of  one  first  principle,  the  source  of  all 
things,  "which  was  according  to  divers  accounts  either 
Space,  or  Infinite  Light,  or  Boundless  Time,  or  Fate."  ^ 
Some  have  attempted  to  trace  this  idea  of  one  First 
Principle  in  the  older  sacred  books.  It  was  in  reality  a 
logical  sequence  of  the  high  conception  of  the  deity  em- 
'  bodied  in  the  whole  religion  of  Iran.  It  is  very  difficult 
to  reconcile  that  religion  with  the  theory  of  the  original 
equality  of  the  good  and  evil  principle,  especially  as  in  the 
end  the  latter  was  to  be  defeated.  The  conclusion  seems 
obvious  that  the  evil  was  essentially  inferior  to  the  good. 
We  are  much  inclined  therefore  to  admit  the  existence  of 
a  monotheism  more  or  less  latent  in  the  religion  of  Iran. 
But  if  Ahriman  proceeds  from  Ormazd  himself,  then  evil 
again  becomes  eternal  and  forms  part  of  the  absolute, 
whence  it  follows  that  evil  has  no  real  existence,  since  it 
is  only  one  of  the  conditions  of  being. 

This  point  remains  in  deep  obscurity.  The  fact  how- 
ever, that  Zoroaster,  who  is  also  a  divine  being,  passes 
through  the  ordeal  of  temptation,  allows  us  to  infer  that 
moral  freedom  may  be  the  principal  cause  of  the  dis- 
tinction between  various  beings.  Only  we  must  not 
force  the  texts  to  support  a  theory.  The  fact  remains 
that  the  religion  of  Iran,  like  the  whole  ancient  world, 
failed  to  solve  the  great  question  of  the  origin  of  evil,  and 
thus  fell  into   that  naturalistic   dualism  with  which  only 

•  See  Darmestetter,  "Introduction  to  the  Vcndidad,"  p.  82.  Also  the 
third  part  of  his  "  Ormazd  and  Ahriman." 


THE  RELIGION  OF  ZOROASTER.  137 

Semitic  monotheism  has  ever  been  able  successfully  to 
cope.  It  appears  to  us  clear  however  that  the  religion 
of  Iran  made  a  noble  and  vigorous  effort  to  cast  off  this 
fatalistic  dualism.  If  it  could  not  get  rid  of  it  in  the 
material  world,  it  did  lift  up  an  ever-strengthening  protest 
against  it  in  the  moral  sphere,  in  the  history  of  man. 
We  find  the  record  of  temptation,  conflict,  victory ; 
hence  there  must  have  been  freedom  of  volition. 

It  must  not  be  forgotten,  however,  that  one  portion  of 
the  human  race  remained  doomed  to  evil  and  to  death, 
as  the  posterity  of  Ahriman.  Does  the  other  portion 
attain,  of  necessity,  to  life  and  deliverance  ?  The  idea 
of  the  judgment  of  souls  would  seem  to  imply  a  recog- 
nition of  the  risks  and  the  perils  of  free  will.  But  on 
this  point  the  religion  of  Zoroaster  contradicts  itself  and 
has  no  certain  utterance.  The  importance  attached  to 
the  knowledge  and  repetition  of  certain  sacred  formu- 
laries, considerably  restricted  the  sphere  of  moral  free- 
dom ;  for  if  salvation  consisted  mainly  in  knowing  the 
law  of  the  universe,  it  u^as  because  that  law  was  regarded 
as  all-powerful  and  inflexible.  Prayer,  however,  was 
supposed  to  modify  its  application.  Thus  we  find  our- 
selves in  a  sphere  outside  of  pure  logic,  and  confronted 
with  conflicting  elements.  This  is  inevitably  the  case 
with  an  incomplete  religion. 

Yet  with  all  its  incompleteness,  this  religion  had  in  it 
sublime  anticipations  of  truth  which  made  it  an  elevating 
and  salutary  influence  over  the  great  nation  professing 
it.  It  had  a  thirst  for  purity  and  light.  It  had  a 
high  idea  of  life,  the  activities  and  fruitful  development 
of  which  it  regarded  as  service  to  a  god  who  hated  death. 
The  harvest-laden  earth  was  his  temple,  and  the  home 
where  the  family  was  growing  up  was  a  sanctuary  with 
open  door  to  feed  the  poor.  Existence,  looked  upon  as  a 
sacred  conflict  with  the  principle  of  evil,  was  invested  with 
true  greatness  and  serious  beauty.  "The  monarchy  of 
Persia,"  as  Ranke  well  remarks  in  his  "  Universal  History," 
"fulfils  a  high  mission.  It  has  other  aims  in  view  than 
mere  conquest  and  plunder.  It  rises  far  above  the  cruel 
Assyrian  monarchy.  For  the  divinities  of  Iran,  pure  and 
shining   ones   like  the  hosts  of  heaven,  demand  neither 


138    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

hecatombs  nor  rites  of  prostitution.  They  are  not 
imitated  by  the  destruction,  but  by  the  increase  and 
development  of  Hfe.  If  they  make  war  it  is  not  from 
motives  of  ambition,  but  to  triumph  over  the  powers  of 
evil,  to  assure  the  final-  victory  of  the  god  of  life. 
Assur  and  the  goddess  who  for  the  most  part  is  named 
with  him  (in  the  inscriptions  of  Darius),  are  warrior 
deities.  Ahura  Mazda  is  a  god  of  justice  and  truth. 
Subjection  means  with  the  Assyrians  subjugation  by 
violence,  with  the  Persians  the  fulfilment  of  a  supreme 
will.  That  which  most  contributes  to  the  elevation  of 
Darius  is  that  his  opponent's  claim  was  based  on  falsehood. 
The  protection  which  Ahura  Mazda  lends  him  he  traces 
to  the  fact  that  he  is  the  true  king  before  v/hom  the  kings 
of  falsehood  must  needs  be  overthrown.  This  premises 
that  the  supremacy  had  with  justice  fallen  to  the  Achae- 
menidae  and  had  been  reached  by  the  transition  from  the 
one  line  to  the  other,  of  which  Darius,  son  of  Hystaspes, 
was  the  representative.  Thus  far  he  is  the  true  king, 
and  is  recognised  as  such  by  Ahura  Mazda.  This  is  the 
purport  of  the  admonition  addressed  by  Darius  to  his 
successors  upon  the  throne,  to  avoid  all  falsehood,  never 
to  show  favour  to  any  liar  or  traitor ;  for  this  would  be 
to  run  counter  to  tne  conception  of  a  true  monarchy. 
Royal  authority  thus  obtains  a  moral  significance  to  which 
the  whole  structure  of  the  kingdom  and  the  State  must 
be  made  to  conform.  "  ' 

This  conception  of  the  monarchy  is  the  natural  con- 
sequence of  the  fundamental  religious  idea  of  Iran, 
according  to  which  the  history  of  nations,  like  that  of 
individuals,  is  one  long  struggle  of  good  against  evil. 
We  have  already  pointed  out  that  it  was  one  of  the 
grand  aspects  of  this  noble  religion,  that  it  assigned  to 
man  the  foremost  part  in  the  salvation  of  the  world  ;  for 
Zoroaster,  although  he  came  down  from  heaven,  is  but 
the  glorious  son  of  hcly  humanity,  which  is  itself  the  very 
seed  of  Ormazd.  Life  is  represented  as  essentially  a 
victorious  conflict.  Thus  the  idea  of  atonement  is  but 
faintly  recognised.  The  purification  of  defilements  con- 
tracted by  contact  with  impure  beings,  and  especially  with 

*  Ranke,  "  Universal  History,"  p.  io6. 


THE  RELIGIO]^   OF  ZOROASTER.  139 

anything  connected  with  death,  is  the  prominent  idea,  not 
any  expiation  to  be  made  for  the  wrong  done.  Eternal 
happiness  is  primarily  the  recompense  for  vigour  and 
success  in  the  conflict  with  evil,  and  the  great  weapon  in 
the  fight  is  alwa3^s  the  due  recitation  of  holy  words. 
Sacrifice  has  far  more  the  character  of  homage  and  of  an 
offering  than  of  an  atonement.  In  this  aspect  the  religion 
of  Iran  resembles  that  of  Egypt.  It  also  has  its  intui- 
tions, which  rise  above  its  ordinary  level.  The  moral 
idea  becomes  expanded  and  quickened  as  it  were  with 
a  feeling  akin  to  love,  raising  it  above  the  mere  conflict 
of  the  principle  of  life  against  the  principle  of  death, 
which  is  its  logical  summary.  "  Carry  succour  to  the 
poor,"  say  the  sacred  books.  "  See  that  he  who  is  in 
want,  wants  no  more."  ^ 

This  recognition  of  charity  in  the  moral  life,  brings  in 
an  element  beyond  the  narrow  scope  of  a  formal  and 
liturgical  piety.  The  worshipper  of  Ormazd  understands 
that  it  is  not  enough  to  recite  correctly  a  sacred  formulary  ; 
that  beside  the  letter  of  the  law,  there  is  the  spirit,  a  spirit 
of  compassionate  love.  How  else  can  we  explain  this 
beautiful  saying  :  "  The  true  worshipper  of  Ormazd  is 
he  who  gives  food  to  the  hungry  "  ?  This  conception  of 
a  higher  morality  and  of  a  religion  which  is  something 
more  than  mere  formalism,  must  of  necessity  lessen  the 
satisfaction  which  the  worshipper  of  Ormazd  feels  in  his 
good  works,  his  rites  and  litanies.  We  must  not  attach 
great  importance  to  the  instruments  for  inflicting  penance 
which  seem  to  have  belonged  to  the  Mazdean  worship, 
such  as  the  goad  and  the  craoshocarana,  a  sort  of  whip 
used  for  self-castigation,  nor  to  the  prolonged  recitation 
of  the  sacred  books,  also  by  way  of  penance.^  That 
which  appears  to  us  far  more  significant,  is  the  practice 
of  the  confession  of  sins, — a  confession  including  not  only 
outward  defilement,  but  sins  of  thought,  word,  and 
deed.^ 

Most  of  all  do  we  attach  importance  to  the  deep  con- 
sciousness   the    worshippers    had    of    the    inadequacy   of 

'  Visparad,  xviii.  4. 

*  Fehr,  "Encyclopedic  Lichtenberger." 

•  Khorda  Avesta,  xlv.  4. 


140    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

the  religion  of  Iran.  Even  Zoroaster  himself,  exalted 
as  he  was,  does  not  seem  to  have  been  looked  upon  by 
his  followers  as  capable  of  winning  the  final  victory. 
They  were  awaiting  in  the  future,  a  mysterious  son  of 
the  great  champion  of  Ormazd,  a  hero  divine,  though 
born  of  a  woman,  who  alone  would  be  able  to  complete 
the  work  begun,  driving  Ahriman  back  into  the  eternal 
darkness,  and  inaugurating  the  era  of  endless  and  un- 
alloyed bliss.  Subsequently,  in  the  evening  of  the  ancient 
world,  when  Mithra  had  become  the  impersonation  of 
this  delivering  power,  we  find  the  recurrence  with  a  new 
and  deeper  meaning  of  the  idea  already  contained  in 
the  symbol  of  the  storm  and  in  that  of  the  bull  sacrificed 
by  the  god — the  idea  namely,  that  as  light  comes  forth 
again  victorious  from  the  dark  bosom  of  the  tempest,  so 
life  is  born  again  of  death.  The  iron  plunged  into  the 
heart  of  the  bull,  is  the  destruction  of  the  natural  life, 
under  its  most  powerful  image.  This  representation, 
perpetually  reproduced  in  marble,  comes  to  exert  a  simple 
fascination  over  the  moribund  ancient  world,  which  by 
a  prophetic  intuition  learns  to  regard  death  as  the  fruitful 
parent  of  new  life.  We  know  what  importance  the 
mysteries  of  Mithra  acquired  at  this  time,  but  the  religion 
of  Iran  did  not  wait  for  this  sombre  hour  of  the  evening 
of  history,  to  call  upon  the  god  of  the  future.  Such  a 
call  surely  goes  up  in  the  sublime  prayer  :  "O  Asha,  God 
of  purity,  when  shall  I  see  thee  ?  When  shall  I  know 
thee  ?  When  shall  1  see  the  abode  of  Ahura  Mazda, 
the  Benefactor  whom  Sraosha  is  to  reveal  ?  "  ^  The  un- 
known poet  asks,  •'  What  is  there  better  for  man  to  know 
before  the  great  deliverance  comes?"^  "  May  the  vic- 
torious Sraosha  defend  us,"  ^  he  cries.  "  May  there  come 
in  brightness  and  glory,  the  fulfilment  for  which  all  souls 
are  waiting."  * 

'  Yasna,  xxviii.  i.  *  Ibid.,  Ivi.  lo. 

^  Ibid.,  XXX.  2.  ''  Ibid.,  xxxiv. 


BOOK    III. 
THE   RELIGIONS    OF   INDIA. 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE   RELIGION  OF  THE    VEDAS} 

§  I. — General  Characteristics. 

THE  Aryans  who  civilised  India  and  developed  there 
one  of  the  most  powerful  religions  in  the  world, 
were  the  last  to  quit  the  cradle  of  their  race.  They  car- 
ried with  them  the  larger  part  of  their  patrimony,  not 
only  in  their  language,  which  presents  many  points  of 
contact  with  the  idiom  of  Western  languages,  but  also 
in  their  mythology.  While  their  brethren  who  emigrated 
to  the  west  plunged  at  once  into  wars  of  conquest, 
those  who  crossed  the  Himalayas  carried  on  for  a  long 
time  a  quiet  agricultural  life,  favourable  to  contempla- 
tion and  meditation.  They  remained  for  centuries  in 
the  region  watered  by  the  seven  rivers  of  Northern  India 
— the  plain  of  the  Indus.     In   these  fertile  valleys  they 

'  I  cannot  pretend  to  give  even  the  most  rapid  survey  of  the  vast 
bibliography  wliich  deals  with  the  religions  of  India.  I  may  however 
just  refer  the  reader  to  the  admirable  resume  given  by  M.  A.  Barth  in  "  The 
Religions  of  India."  It  contains  very  valuable  suggestions  on  the  reli- 
gious evolution  itself,  I  have  borrowed  chiefly  from  the  sacred  books 
of  India,  as  will  be  seen  by  the  notes.  Unhappily,  I  have  only  had 
access  to  them  through  translations.  Of  these  a  great  number  have 
appeared  of  late  years  in  England,  France,  and  Germany.  I  have  availed 
myself  largely  of  Max  Muller's  works  :  "  Essays  on  Mythology, 
Traditions  and  Customs,"  on  "The  Science  of  Religion,"  on  "The  Origin 
and  Growth  of  Religion,  as  Illustrated  by  the  Religions  of  India,"  and 
"  India,  what  can  it  teach  us  ? "'  I  am  also  greatly  indebted  to  M. 
Bergaigoe,  for  his  book,  "  La  religion  Vedique,  d'apres  Ics  hymncs  du 
Rig- Veda,"  vol.  iii.  I  may  mention  also  M.  Bourquin's  recent  work,  "  Le 
pantheisme  dans  les  Vedas."  I  agree  with  him  as  to  the  fundamentally 
pantheistic  character  of  the  religion  of  the  Vcdas,  but  I  am  disposed  to 
assign  a  larger  place  than  he  does  to  the  reaction  of  the  moral  conscious- 
ness against  the  prevailing  logical  conception. 


144    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

enjoyed  perfect  security.  On  the  north  they  had  the 
mountains  for  ramparts,  while  the  Indian  Ocean  washed 
the  southern  frontiers  of  the  peninsula.  Thus  they 
escaped  for  centuries  the  wars  and  fightings  which  raged 
among  other  Asiatic  and  Western  nations.  There  was 
no  parallel  in  their  history  to  the  sanguinary  drama 
enacted  on  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean.  They  easily 
got  the  better  of  the  aborigines  of  Northern  India.  The 
allusions  in  their  sacred  books  to  these  unimportant  con- 
flicts are  very  sober,  a  sure  evidence  that  they  presented 
no  analogy  with  the  giant  combats  which  some  branches 
of  the  Aryan  race  had  to  wage,  to  win  for  themselves  a 
rich  and  glorious  possession.  The  aborigines  who  were 
to  be  dispossessed  and  brought  into  subjection  in  India, 
were  of  an  inferior  race,  probably  mere  savages.  The 
sacred  books  speak  of  them  as  "  The  men  of  the  black 
skin."  "  Indra,"  says  a  Vedic  hymn,  "  protected  in  battle 
the  Aryan  worshipper.  He  subdued  the  lawless  for 
Manu  ;  he  conquered  the  black  skin."^ 

The  natives  were  also  called  by  their  conquerors  "  goat- 
nosed  and  noseless,"  and  were  even  taunted  with  feeding 
on  human  flesh.  The  sacred  books  speak  of  them  as 
demons,  and  madmen,  and  devote  them  to  the  pit,  even 
to  unfathomable  darkness  and  everlasting  hatred.  They 
are  constantly  contrasted  with  the  noble  Aryan  race, 
their  masters.  These  unhappy  aborigines  seemed  to 
their  conquerors  an  incarnation  of  the  power  of  evil. 
They  never  presented  any  serious  obstacle,  however,  to 
the  invaders,  who  easily  swept  them  off  the  ground. 
Hence  the  religion  of  the  Aryans  in  this  region  never 
assumed  the  essentially  militant  form  so  marked  else- 
where.^ «. 

The  conflict  of  the  good  and  evil  principles  in  nature 
rather  than  in  history,  is  the  prominent  feature  in  the 
religion  of  the  Aryans  in  India.  Living  under  a  favour- 
able climate,  and  in  a  fertile  district  not  subject  to  volcanic 
eruptions,  their  existence  was  one  of  comparative  tran- 
quillity, exempt  from  the  convulsions  of  nature  or  of  war. 
Their  social    constitution    retained    for    a    long    time    its 

>  Rig  Veda,  i.  130,  8. 

*  Max  Miillcr,  "  Essays  on  Mythology,"  p.  328. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  THE    VEDAS.  145 

patriarchal  character,  which  was  not  favourable  to  the 
establishment  of  a  monarchy..  There  was  a  sort  of  tacit 
federation  among  tribes  of  the  same  race,  which  were 
indeed  only  families  on  a  larger  scale.  The  priesthood, 
which  was  subsequently  to  exercise  considerable  power, 
was  not  yet  a  constituted  hierarchy.  The  priest  was 
primarily  an  inspired  singer ;  the  principal  sanctuary  was 
the  home,  and  there  the  father  of  the  family  officiated. 
There  was  nothing  in  the  institutions  of  the  country,  nor 
in  outward  circumstances,  to  check  the  play  of  thought 
and  feeling  in  a  race  singularly  sensitive  to  the  majestic 
beauties  of  nature  surrounding  it,  and  marvellously  gifted 
in  interpreting  its  symbols  by  a  deep  and  subtle  m3'sticism. 
Its  greatest  danger  lay  indeed  in  the  superabundance  of  its 
gifts,  which  it  never  knew  how  to  use  rightly. 

It  abandoned  itself  unrestrainedly  to  its  poetical  and 
metaphysical  instincts.  It  is  true  that  these  were  not 
always  consistent,  and  its  pantheistic  conception  of  things 
gave  to  its  poetry  a  cloudy  vagueness  which  prevented 
the  creation  of  individual  and  .truly  human  t3'pes.  Never- 
theless, it  has  never  been  surpassed  in  its  keen  insight 
into  the  mysterious  depths  of  things,  nor  in  its  mastery 
of  subtle  dialectics  ;  nor  have  we  in  any  literature  more 
brilliant  descriptions  of  nature  in  all  her  aspects  of  power 
and  sweetness. 

Yet  even  when  the  race  was  3'oung  and  its  early 
singers  were  pouring  forth  the  rapture  of  delight  wrought 
in  their  souls  by  the  beauty  of  earth  and  sky,  we  catch 
tones  of  sadness  in  their  singing,  a  feeling  after  the  great  un- 
known lying  beyond  and  behind  the  veil  of  material  things  ; 
and  we  know  that  under  the  influence  of  a  latent  but  irre- 
sistible logic,  even  this  brilliant  nature-worship  vv^ill  end  in 
the  negation  of  all  the  natural  and  the  finite.  The  deep  line 
of  demarcation  is  very  early  traceable  between  the  religious 
development  of  the  Aryans  of  Iran  and  those  of  India. 
The  former  enter  into  life  through  conflict ;  the  latter  sink 
into  annihilation  through  speculation,  not  however  without 
strong  and  impressive  protests  on  the  part  of  the  con- 
science, which  we  shall  carefully  observe. 

It  is  important  to  bring  into  strong  relief  this  capital 
point  of  divergence  betv^'een  these  two  branches  of  the  same 

10 


146     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

stock,  for  in  it  lies  the  explanation  of  the  direction  taken  by 
each  in  its  religious  development.  We  have  alread}''  shown 
that  their  beliefs  were  originally  identical.  Both  India  and 
Iran  began  with  solar  gods,  which  were,  in  both  religions, 
the  highest  manifestation  of  the  deity.  But  the  great 
god  of  India,  Varuna,  after  being  raised  to  the  highest 
altitudes  of  the  moral  life,  and  retaining  this  pre-eminence 
for  an  indefinite  time,  is  finally  lost  in  a  confused  theodicy 
in  which  all  the  gods  are  merged  in  one  another.  This 
theodicy  is  in  its  turn  plunged  into  the  abyss  of  the 
ineffable  unity,  the  vague  and  dreary  absolute,  which  is  but 
another  name  for  nothingness.^  In  contrast  to  this 
pantheistic  evolution,  the  great  god  of  Iran  becomes 
ever  increasingly  the  god  of  life,  of  victorious  good,  of 
fruitful  effort. 

How  can  we  explain  so  wide  a  divergence  of  religious 
conception,  with  a  community  of  origin  so  complete  ? 
The  explanation  is  simply  this  :  that  Iran,  in  its  con- 
ception of  the  divine,  gave  precedence  to  the  moral  idea 
(largely  tinctured  indeed  with  naturism,  but  retaining  that 
which  was  essential)  over  the  mere  metaphysical  notion 
of  the  absolute.  When  the  absolute,  the  divine,  is  re- 
garded primarily  as  moral  good,  its  highest  impersonation 
cannot  be  a  god  bent  on  destroying  and  annihilating  the 
finite  being,  Man  may  never  pass  the  limits  of  the  finite, 
but  he  is  not  on  that  account  excluded  from  true  life  and 
cut  off  from  the  divine.  So  long  as  he  does  good  and 
fights  the  good  fight,  he  has  as  much  his  raison  d'etre  as 
all  the  rest  of  the  created  world.  Under  such  conditions 
religion  tends  to  life,  not  to  death.  It  is  quite  otherwise 
when  the  dominant  idea  of  the  divine,  or  of  absolute  being, 
is  the  infinite.  Evil  then  of  necessity  resides  in  the 
finite,  in  the  particular,  individual  being.  It  follows  that 
the  chief  duty  of  the  individual  is  to  try  to  attenuate  this 
limited  life,  to  weaken  it  by  asceticism,  and  finally  to 
suppress  it  altogether :  this  is  the  radical  principle  of  the 
metaphysics  of  India  from  its  very  earliest  phases.  It  is 
at  first  hidden  by  the  luxurious  overgrowth  of  natural 
symbols  unequalled  in  their  wealth  and  brilliancy.  Some- 
times the  conscience  awakes  and  attempts  to  recast  the 

See  Book  I.,  §  2,  ch.  v. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  THE    VEDAS.  147 

image  of  its  gods,  and  to  raise  them  to  its  own  elevation. 
But  the  prevaihng  idea  is  that  of  a  boundless  pantheism, 
in  which  the  gods  are  confounded  with  the  operations 
of  nature  and  lose  all  true  and  permanent  individuality. 
They  are  nothing  more  than  the  changing  forms  of  one 
substance,  one  force,  one  principle,  asserting  itself  through 
different  media  and  in  various  ways.  All  these  manifesta- 
tions— fire,  water,  lightning — assume  in  turn  the  character 
of  the  supreme  deity  who  sometimes  absorbs  them  alto- 
gether. This  supreme  deity  becomes  a  Proteus,  for  ever 
changing  his  name  and  nature,  at  once  everywhere  and 
nowhere.  "That  which  is  One  the  wise  call  it  in  divers 
manners,"  says  the  Rig  Veda.^  And  again  :  "  Wise  poets 
make  the  beautiful-winged,  though  he  is  one,  manifold 
by  words."  ^ 

There  was  undoubtedly  a  long  period  in  which  poetry 
was  more  powerful  than  metaphysics,  and  the  religious 
feeling  with  its  deep  cravings  and  aspirations,  projected 
itself  upon  all  the  gods,  asking  them  to  satisfy  its  yearning 
after  the  infinite,  which  at  times  assumed  the  form  of  a 
longing  for  pardon  and  restoration,  an  earnest  endeavour 
after  moral  good.  It  cannot  be  questioned  that  the 
religion  of  the  Vedas  was  thus  raised  above  itself  by  the 
higher  and  purer  development  of  the  worship  of  Varuna, 
Nevertheless  it  carries  within  it  the  germ  of  its  own 
dissolution  in  the  element  of  pure  metaphysics,  which  after 
being  for  a  while  held  in  check  by  the  stronger  poetic 
instinct,  finally  rends  this  enchanting  veil  of  poesy  in  its 
attempt  to  grasp  the  ineffable,  mysteriously  underlying  all 
things — that  lifeless  absolute  in  which  all  life  is  ultimately 
to  be  engulfed ;  for  it  is  not  the  good  but  simply  the 
infinite,  with  which  the  finite  is  to  be  united  by  absorp- 
tion. 

The  later  Vedic  hymns  are  full  of  this  mournful 
pantheism.  It  casts  a  dark  cloud  over  the  brightest 
creations  of  the  poetic  imagination,  deepens  the  night  of 
doubt,  and  prepares  the  way  for  the  triumph  of  a  god, 
till  now  obscure,  Braluuajiaspati,  who  becomes  the  great 
divinity    of    an    encroaching   and    tyrannical    priesthood. 

Rig  Veda   i,  164,  46.  ^  Ibid.,  x.  114,  5. 


148     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

He  is  confounded  in  the  end  with  the  mysterious  first 
principle  of  finite  beings,  who  only  produced  them  for 
a  day  to  absorb  them  again  into  his  silent  depths,  like 
the  foam-crest  of  the  waves,  raised  for  a  moment  by  the 
breath  of  ocean,  only  to  sink  back  and  disappear  in  its 
mighty  depths. 

Tlie  religion  of  the  Brahmans  is  therefore  the  logical 
sequence  of  that  of  the  Vedic  poets ;  for  these  did 
not  set  before  their  followers  a  living  personal  god,  like 
Ormazd,  who  should  lead  them  on  into  the  abode  of  life 
and  goodness.  In  the  religion  of  India  there  is  no  scope 
for  anything  like  real  conflict,  since  such  conflict  would 
imply  the  development  of  individuality,  of  a  personal  life, 
in  opposition  to  the  supreme  One,  who  is  to  be  the  end 
as  he  is  the  beginning  of  all  things.  Thus  Brahmanism, 
with  its  asceticism  and  its  doctrine  of  the  absorption  of 
the  finite  in  the  infinite,  is  only  a  stage  in  the  evolution 
of  thought  in  India.  Buddhism,  in  preaching  the  gospel 
of  annihilation,  is  the  logical  conclusion  of  the  religious 
conception  of  India,  as  implied  even  in  the  religion  of  the 
Vedas  and  definitely  formulated  in  that  of  the  Brahmans, 
not  to  mention  its  expansion  in  the  elaborate  philosophical 
treatises  of  the  same  period. 

We  do  not  forget  that  the  moral  history  of  a  nation 
is  not  worked  out  like  a  problem  in  geometry  ;  that  it 
is  complex  as  life  itself,  and  that  during  long  ages  the 
hidden  principle  which  was  in  the  end  to  permeate  all  the 
religion  of  India,  was  more  or  less  neutralised  either  by 
the  rich  creations  of  the  national  imagination,  or  by  the 
persistence  of  the  deeper  needs  of  the  soul  and  the 
conscience,  ever  seeking  satisfaction  above  and  beyond 
pantheistic  theories.  These  happy  anomalies,  which  are 
the  safeguards  of  the  moral  life  of  humanity  in  its  darkest 
days,  were  never  more  pronounced  than  in  the  first  period 
of  the  religion  of  India,  to  which  we  now  turn  our  atten- 
tion. After  the  period  of  the  Vedas,  we  shall  pass  en 
to  that  of  the  Brahmans.  The  third  period  is  simply 
a  history  of  Buddhism,  which,  not  content  with  its 
millions  of  worshippers  of  the  old  type,  tries  to  renew 
its  youth,  and  under  another  form  to  gain  a  footing  in 
the  West. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  THE    VEDAS.  149 


§   II. — The  Three  Phases  of   the  Religion   of   the 
Vedas. 

In  reviewing  the  history  of  ideas  in  India,  we  can  make 
no  attempt  at  chronological  arrangement.  We  must 
content  ourselves  with  the  three  great  periods — Vedism, 
Brahmanism,  and  Buddhism.  It  would  be  simply  chimeri- 
cal to  try  to  determine  dates  or  well  marked  gradations 
in  the  religious  evolution  of  these  three  periods,  each  of 
which  comprises  centuries.  How  can  we  know  with 
any  certainty  the  precise  moment  when  a  new  religious 
conception  arose,  since  no  new  god  arose  with  it  on  the 
horizon  ?  It  exerted  a  reflex  influence  upon  all  the  gods 
of  the  past  and  upon  all  these  at  once,  through  the 
invariable  tendency  of  the  Indian  mind  to  attach  all  that 
is  divine  to  each  one  of  its  deities.  This  is  what  Max 
MilUer  calls  Cathcnotheism^  that  is  "a  worship  of  one 
god  after  another."  We  do  not  deny  that  a  certain  pre- 
ponderance may  be  attached  at  a  given  moment  to  one 
or  other  of  these  gods,  or  rather  to  the  particular  religious 
idea  which  he  represents,  but  none  the  less  he  will  be 
speedily  involved  again  in  a  syncretism  all  the  other  gods, 
who  will  immediately  assume  the  very  character  which 
had  seemed  to  belong  peculiarly  to  him,  just  because  for 
the  time  he  was  prominent.  We  must  always  bear  this 
in  mind  in  studying  the  pantheon  of  India,  if  we  would 
not  introduce  elements  foreign  to  it. 

In  the  Vedic  period,  we  observe  first  a  phase  in  which 
the  worship  of  the  sun  seems  to  occupy  the  principal 
place,  as  in  all  the  ancient   religions.'^     In  many  hymns 

'  "India,"  Max  Miiller,  p.  147. 

^  My  principal  authority  is  the  collection  of  Vcdic  hymns.  I  refer  the 
reader  to  the  complete  translation  by  Konig.  "  Dcr  Rig  Veda  Oder  die 
heiligen  Hymnen  dcr  Brahmanen."  Alfred  Ludvvig,  2  vols.  Prague, 
1876.  The  Vedas  (Veda  means  knowledge)  in  their  present  form  are 
divided  into  four  parts:  1st,  The  Rig  Veda,  or  collection  of  hj-mns; 
2nd,  The  Yajnr  Veda,  which  contains  the  sacrificial  formulas  ;  3rd,  The 
Santa  Veda,  the  music  of  the  hymnary  ;  4th,  The  Atharva  Veda,  a  collec- 
tion of  hymns  of  different  periods.  Each  Veda  is  followed  as  a  rule  by 
a  number  of  Brahmanas,  treatises  of  ritual  and  theology,  with  legendary 
accompaniments.  The  various  texts  of  the  Vedas  are  called  Snkhas, 
or  branches.     The  whole  scries  of  these  sacred  books  is  called  SruiiSf 


150    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

Varuna  is  prominent  among  the  sidereal  deities  The 
stars  which  form  his  train  are  the  objects  of  a  worship 
similar  to  that  offered  to  them  throughout  the  ancient 
East.  Though  his  primacy  is  thus  repeatedly  affirmed, 
other  gods  claim  the  same  rank  in  other  hymns.  Agni, 
the  god  of  fire,  and  Soma  the  god  of  the  drink  of  immor- 
tality, or  of  the  sacred  libations,  eclipse  all  the  other 
divinities,  when  they  appear.  And  yet,  as  soon  as  Indra 
makes  his  thunder  heard,  it  seems  as  if  he  alone  is  the 
supreme  god,  till  Varuna  reappearing  with  new  attributes, 
rises  suddenly  above  the  sidereal  symbolism,  and  exalts 
to  the  heavens  the  purest  moral  ideal.  There  is  no  real 
succession,  however,  in  the  divine  sovereignty,  for  there 
is  not  one  of  these  supreme  gods  whose  attributes  do  not 
pass  by  turns  to  each  of  the  others,  and  even  to  those 
who  originally  represented  religious  conceptions  of  a  lower 
order,  as  for  example,  the  sun  and  stars.  This  blending 
of  all  the  gods  is  distinctive  of  the  religion  of  India  during 
the  whole  period  of  the  Vedas.  Each  particular  god  is  in 
turn  the  salient  figure  in  the  theogony.  There  may  have 
been  no  doubt  a  degree  of  development  in  the  general  re- 
ligious conceptions  connected  specially  with  certain  gods, 
before  these  were  extended  to  all  the  rest.  It  is  not 
possible  to  fix  the  date  when  a  new  phase  began  in  the 
development  of  the  religion  of  the  Vedas,  but  there  are 
clear  traces  of  such  an  evolution.  We  have  indicated  its 
principal  characteristics.  After  the  solar  gods  come  the 
gods  of  the  sacrifices.  Then  the  god  of  the  storm  and  the 
battle  of  the  elements  becomes  pre-eminent,  and  again  his 
glory  pales  before  that  of  the  moral  god,  as  he  triumphs 
for  a  time  over  the  inveterate  pantheism  of  India.  We 
cannot  look  upon  each  of  these  phases  as  absolutely  distinct. 

revelation,  the  holy  tradition.  The  oldest  part  of  the  Vedas  is  the  Rig 
Veda.  The  ten  books  which  compose  it  had  not  all  a  common  origin  ; 
they  came  from  priestly  families  often  at  variance  with  one  another;  thus 
great  differences  may  be  observed  between  them.  All  these  diflerences 
are  effaced  in  the  Brahmanas,  the  more  recent  part  of  which  belong  to 
the  fifth  century  before  Christ.  It  follows  that  a  complete  religious 
revolution  had  been  accomplished  between  the  Rig  Veda  and  the  Brah- 
manas. It  must  have  extended  over  many  centuries.  There  can  be 
little  doubt  that  the  formation  of  the  Rig  Veda  may  be  roughly  assigned 
to  the  tenth  century  B.C.,  but  it  is  impossible  to  affix  dates  to  its  succes- 
sive stages, 


THE  RELIGION  OF  THE    VEDAS.  151 

There  can  be  no  sharp  lines  of  demarcation  between 
them.  We  shall  rather  contemplate  the  Vedic  pantheon 
as  one  vast  edifice  reared  by  successive  stages,  all  its 
parts  being  connected  and  interdependent. 

•  §  III. — The  Solar  Gods. 

We  have  observed  that  the  genius  of  the  Ar3'ans  of 
India  is  characterised  by  brilliancy  of  imagination  and  a 
subtle  philosophic  spirit. 

We  may  naturally  suppose  that  the  poetic  element 
predominated  in  the  youth  of  the  race,  at  the  period  when 
the  worship  of  the  sidereal  gods  was  still  in  its  primitive 
simplicity  and  not  overladen  with  abstruse  and  compli- 
cated philosophies.  Never  were  the  aspects  of  nature 
expressed  in  more  marvellous  poetic  diction  or  painted 
in  more  glowing  colours.  Nature  was  admired  for  its 
own  sake.  The  images  by  which  the  Vedic  poets  try  to 
set  forth  its  beauty  are  indeed  borrowed  from  the  life  of 
the  warrior  and  the  husbandman,  but  they  content  them- 
selves with  a  very  simple  and  wholly  metaphoric  anthropo- 
morphism. If  they  introduce  the  law  of  the  sexes  into 
their  theodicy,  it  is  only  to  express  the  relation  of  cause 
and  effect  in  the  life  of  the  world.  Nor  is  there  any  fixity 
in  these  celestial  marriages.  Incest  is  admitted  without 
scruple,  because  from  the  standpoint  of  Indian  syncretism 
there  is  no  marked  difference  between  the  gods,  who  are 
by  turns  father  and  son,  male  and  female,  cause  and  effect, 
in  the  perpetual  changes  in  their  mode  of  existence. 

These  sexual  relations  moreover  have  no  element  of  sen- 
suality ;  they  are  mere  abstractions  and  generalisations. 
The  nature-gods  of  the  Indian  theodicy  do  not  resemble 
in  the  slightest  degree  the  Astarte  of  Babylonia  and 
Phoenicia,  who  enkindled  in  the  heart  of  man  the  impure 
flame  of  consuming  desire,  made  him  drink  deep  of  the 
cup  of  her  voluptuousness,  and  was  worshipped  by  de- 
grading rites.  The  nature-goddess  whom  the  Indian 
celebrates  in  song  is  not  the  great  prostitute  of  Western 
Asia,  who  so  excites  her  worshipper  by  her  sensuous 
charms,  that  he  cannot  rise  to  the  calm  contemplation 
of  the    beautiful,   for  whom    he  devises  only  monstrous 


152     THE  ANCIENT  IVORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

symbols,  and  who  never  inspires  him  with  the  true  poetry 
of  worship. 

To  the  Aryans  of  India  nature  is  a  chaste  goddess,  with 
star-crowned  brow,  of  grave  majesty  and  radiant  smile, 
full  of  grace  and  grandeur  in  her  changing  manifestations. 
He  feels  the  spell  she  weaves  around  him  in  the  high  and 
shining  heavens,  in  the  rapid  rivers,  in  the  vast  plains  and 
forest-sanctuaries.  But  the  sentiment  she  thus  inspires, 
has  in  it  nothing  of  the  ardent  passion  which  stifles 
imagination  and  deadens  thought  by  the  very  violence  of 
sensation.  His  aesthetic  sense  is  only  stirred  to  quick 
expression,  and  he  describes  the  goddess  nature  with  a 
delicate  appreciation  unapproached  before  or  since.  Later 
on,  as  the  soul  of  man  becomes  more  agitated  with  the 
moral  conflict,  he  seeks  in  nature  the  reflex  or  echo  of 
his  own  changing  impressions.  This  interpretation  has  a 
value  of  its  own,  but  for  the  rendering  of  nature  in  all  her 
varied  aspects,  nothing  can  equal  the  clear  mirror  of  a 
simple  heart,  in  the  infancy  of  a  race  singularly  endowed 
with  the  power  of  reproducing  what  it  sees  and  admires  in 
the  world  around  it. 

The  magic  of  this  poetry  is  peculiarly  felt  in  the  hymns 
addressed  to  the  solar  gods,  who  after  occupying  the  fore- 
most rank,  are  suddenly  changed  into  mere  satellites  of 
Indra  and  Varuna,  except  v/hen  they  are  confounded  with 
these  great  gods.  They  had,  however,  first  their  time  of 
supremacy.  The  most  significant  trace  of  this  period 
in  the  Vedic  hymns  is  the  name  Dyans,  by  which  the 
heaven-god  was  at  first  designated.  He  forms,  with  the 
earth,  the  primeval  divine  pair  from  which  spring  all  the 
other  gods.^  If  this  priority  of  the  solar  gods  was  not 
steadily  maintained,  they  yet  lost  nothing  of  their 
prestige.  The  various  phases  of  the  rising  of  the  sun 
are  described  in  colours  of  surpassing  delicacy  and 
brilliance. 

The  dawn  as  it  rises  on  the  dim  horizon  is  called 
Ushas,  the  daughter  of  heaven.  She  rides  forth  on  her 
resplendent  car  of  light,  the  birds  forming  her  retinue.  The 
breath  of  life  for  all  beings  is  in  her  when  she  opens  the 
gates  of  day.     Her   rays  flow  forth  like  rivers  of  milk 

"  Rig  Veda,  i.  185,  6 


THE  RELIGION  OF  THE    VEDAS.  153 

from  the  "  superb  abundance  "  of  her  breast ;  she  is  as  one 
fresh  come  forth  from  the  bath.^ 

The  dawn  is  heralded  by  two  Asvins  who  represent  the 
two  first  beams  of  day  They  are  the  heavenly  physicians 
bringing  succour,  the  two  eyes  by  which  we  see  the  hght, 
the  two  feet  by  which  we  walk,  the  two  lips  whence  flow 
words  sweet  as  honey.  Their  golden  chariot,  swifter  than 
thought,  is  wrought  of  rays  of  light.  Their  fleet-footed 
horses  never  weary.  They  are  two  heroes,  who,  mounted 
on  their  sun-car,  traverse  deserts,  floods  and  fields.^ 

The  great  king  of  the  realms  of  light,  thus  heralded  by 
Ushas  and  the  Asvins,  at  length  appears.  This  is  Surya, 
"  the  shining  one,"  who  is  the  joy  of  heaven.  In  Rig 
Veda,  vii,  6'^,  we  read  : — 

"  The  sun  rises,  the  bliss-bestowing,  the  all-seeing, 
The  same  for  all  men  ; 
The  eye  of  Mitra  and  Varuna, 
The  god  who  has  rolled  up  darkness  like  a  skin." 

And  again,  vii.  6^,  4:— 

"  The  brilliant  (sun)  rises  from  the  sky,  wide  shining, 
Going  forth  to  his  distant  work,  full  of  light. 
Now  let  men  also,  enlivened  by  the  sun, 
Go  to  their  places  and  to  their  work."  ^ 

The  stars  of  night  flee  before  the  all-seeing  sun  like 
thieves.  As  the  bridegroom  to  his  bride,  so  comes  Surya 
to  Ushas  the  shining  goddess.* 

It  is  strange  to  find  night  invoked  as  the  sister  of  the 
davv'n  ;  but  we  must  remember  that  this  is  the  splendid 
night  of  the  East,  radiant  with  the  light  of  stars.  It  is 
said  of  night :  "  The  immortal  goddess  fills  the  valleys  and 
the  heights  around,  and  with  her  brightness  puts  the  dark 
to  flight.  She  is  sister  to  the  dawn.  Be  with  us,  thou  at 
whose  approach  we  have  come  home  as  birds  to  their  nests. 
Man  has  come  home,  and  every  creature  that  has  feet  or 
wings.  The  flocks  are  in  the  fold.  O  guardian  daughter 
of  heaven,  keep  thou  away  the  thief,  the  prowling  wolf."^ 

1  Rig  Veda,  i.  48 ;  v.  So. 

•■«  Ibid.,  ii.  39. 

*  "Origin  and  Growth  of  Religion,"  Max  Mullcr,  p.  266. 

*  Rig  Veda,  vii.  63;  vii.  66;  i.  I2i. 

*  Ibid.,  X.  127. 


154     ^^-^  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

These  solar  gods  come  in  the  end  to  share  in  the  moral 
quahties  of  the  higher  divinities,  with  whom  they  are 
indeed  closely  associated  in  the  morning  prayer.  In  the 
first  instance,  the  regularity  of  the  appearance  of  the 
heavenly  bodies  suggests  the  idea  of  rule,  of  order  and 
law,  which  afterwards  assumes  so  beautiful  a  development. 
Of  the  goddess  Ushas  it  is  said  ;  "  She  has  ever  shone 
without  beginning ;  she  has  shone  to-day  ;  she  will  shine 
in  all  the  days  to  come — unchanging,  never-dying.  The  last 
to  pass  away,  the  first  to  rise,  she  shines,  goddess  of  dawn."  ^ 

The  same  fixed  and  invariable  order  is  ascribed  to 
all  the  other  gods  of  light,  who  constitute  in  fact  the 
whole  pantheon  of  India.  "  They  uphold  the  heavenly 
spheres  ;  they  are  golden,  bright,  clear  as  the  streams  of 
water ;  they  slumber  not  nor  sleep,  keeping  inviolate  guard 
over  pious  mortals."  This  homage  of  all  created  orders 
is  paid  not  only  to  Mitra  and  Varuna,  but  to  the  great 
god  over  all,  whose  eyes  are  in  every  place. ^ 

Nor  is  the  steady  maintenance  of  law  the  only  higher 
quality  attributed  to  these  shining  gods.  By  the  very 
fact  that  they  are  gods  of  light,  they  see  all  things  and 
take  special  cognisance  of  the  ways  of  man.  In  this  we 
note  the  transition  from  the  merely  phenomenal  in  nature, 
to  intellectual  and  moral  action.  Light  does  not  simply 
illumine,  it  sees  and  sees  intelligently.  "  With  what  an  e3^e 
of  flame,  O  Varuna,  O  sun  god,  the  all-seeing,  dost  thou 
behold  the  busy  ways  of  men!"^  These  gods  of  light 
who  see  all  and  who  uphold  the  stedfast  order  of  the 
universe,  have  their  place  in  the  love  and  trust  of  men 
who  put  up  to  them  prayers  of  the  same  order  as  those 
addressed  to  Indra  or  Varuna.  They  naturally  ask  in  the 
first  place  for  material  good.  They  implore  Ushas  to 
drive  away  and  destroy  the  enemy  and  to  give  them  milch 
kine.  *  They  ask  Surya  to  chase  away  all  illness  and 
bad  dreams.  But  prayer  soon  rises  to  higher  levels.  The 
Asvins  are  entreated  to  give  to  their  worshippers  the 
courage  of  heroes.^  Even  better  blessings  are  asked  as 
though  the  suppliants  recognised  in  the  gods  succouring 

>  Rig  Veda,  ii.  27.  ^  Ibid.,  i.  50,  6. 

«  Ibid.,  i.  129 ;  i.  150.  ^  Ibid  ,  vi.  64,  5. 

^  Ibid.,  viii.  5- 


THE  RELIGION  OF  THE    VEDAS.  155 

friends.  "  Men  call  you,  O  faithful  ones,  the  good 
physicians,  who  lend  your  aid  to  all  the  blind,  the  feeble 
and  depressed.  I  pray  you  now,  hear  my  cry  and  be 
gentle  to  nie  as  parents  to  a  child.  I  am  an  orphan — I 
have  neither  friend  nor  kindred  ;  help  ye  me,  who  am  so 
poor  and  needy."  ^  Rising  still  higher,  the  prayer  addressed 
to  these  light-gods  asks  pardon  for  sins  committed  : 
"  Be  favourable  to  us,  O  Ushas,  according  to  thy  wont."^ 
"  Lengthen  out  our  life  and  wipe  out  all  wrong.  Destroy 
the  enemy  and  be  near  us  with  thy  grace  and  favour."  ^ 

The  note  of  penitence  is  even  more  distinct  in  one  of 
the  hymns  of  Savitar,  "  the  vivifying  one,"  another  im- 
personation of  the  sun.  The  worshippers  of  this  sun-god, 
who  morning  by  morning  with  the  touch  of  his  finger, 
wakens  the  circle  of  the  earth  to  life  and  light,  thus  pray 
to  him:  "Whatever  we  have  committed  against  the 
heavenly  host  through  thoughtlessness,  through  weakness, 
through  pride,  through  our  human  nature,  let  us  be 
guiltless  here,  O  Savitar,  before  gods  and  men."  ^ 

Vishnu,  the  god  of  the  solar  disc,  who  is  so  prominent 
a  figure  in  the  later  theogony,  and  Pushan,  "he  who  makes 
all  things  grow,"  the  tutelary  god  of  the  husbandman  and 
the  shepherd,  are  both  also  sun-gods.  They  have  the 
same  moral  attributes  as  SCirya  and  Savitar.  It  is  even 
said  of  Pushan,  that  he  leads  the  dead  into  the  abodes  of 
the  blessed.^  Thus  little  by  little,  the  sun-gods  are  in- 
vested with  moral  attributes.  Light  becomes  in  them 
intelligence,  the  knowledge  of  men  and  things.  The 
regularity  of  their  appearance  is  translated  into  the  wisdom, 
by  which  the  order  of  the  universe  is  maintained. 

Lastly,  the  qualities  of  purity  and  mercy  are  ascribed 
to  them.  They  are  invoked  in  the  same  manner  as  the 
great  gods,  in  whom  these  high  attributes  will  always 
shine  with  a  fuller  lustre,  in  proportion  as  they  are  more 
removed  from  the  merely  phenomenal  in  nature.  It  is 
true  that  it  is  to  the  religious  development  manifested  by 
the  worship  of  these  greater  gods,  that  the  inferior  and 
earlier  divinities  owe  their  transfiguration.     But  on  the 

'  Rig  Veda,  x.  39,  3—6.  ^  II  id.,  i.  157,  4. 

^  Ibid.,  iv.  52,  6.  «  iLid.,  iv.  54,  3. 

*  Ibid.,  X.  17. 


156     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 


other  hand,  the  great  gods  are  never  wholly  emancipated 
from  the  materialism  of  the  lower  deities.  This  is  an 
inevitable  consequence  of  the  pantheistic  syncretism,  which 
has  always  characterised  the  religion  of  India. 

§   IV, — The  Gods  of  the  Sacrifices.^ 

We  come  now  to  a  cycle  of  gods  which  are  the  most 
original  creations  of  the  Vedic  religion — the  two  great 
gods  of  the  sacrifices — Agni  and  Soma — the  god  of  the 
sacred  fire,  and  the  god  of  the  drink  of  immortality  or  of 
sacred  libations.  We  shall  see  them  rising  gradually  to 
a  position  of  supremacy  over  the  whole  cosmogony,  but 
at  this  elevation  they  lose  their  individuality,  and  become 
confounded  with  all  the  other  gods.  It  is  like  one  of 
those  inaccessible  peaks  of  the  Alps,  where  all  the  lines 
previously  divergent,  meet  in  a  single  point.  In  spite  of 
this  logical  confusion,  however,  they  retain  their  moral 
characteristics  and  continue  to  act  as  benefactors  to  the 
world.  The  brilliant  imagination  of  the  race  finds  full 
scope  in  the  description  of  the  natural  phenomenon,  which 
rapidly  acquires  a  mystical  meaning. 

Agni  is  in  the  first  instance  the  fire  on  the  hearth 
and  on  the  altar.  Though  it  leaps  heavenward  toward 
the  assembly  of  the  gods,  it  is  nevertheless  produced 
originally  from  the  tinder.  With  his  quick  glancing 
tongue,  Agni  tastes  the  sweetness  of  the  sacrifice.  He 
clothes  himself  in  a  garb  of  flame,  his  golden  hair  floats 
on  the  breeze.  He  is  like]  a  winged  dragon,  swift  as 
the  wind.  After  quivering  like  a  golden  bird  upon  the 
hearth,  he  darts  forth  into  space  like  a  rapid  courser,  who 
champs  the  bit  and  cannot  be  held  in.^  For  mortals 
who  bring  him  wood  for  the  altar  and  pour  out  libations 
for  him,  he  acts  as  priest,  bearing  their  messages,  pre- 
senting their  sacrifices.  He  is  the  mediator  between  gods 
and  men.  Prayers,  hymns,  of  highest  praise  are  due  to 
Agni,  who  not  only  promises  great  things  for  his 
worshippers,  but  does  them.^ 

'  See  Bergaignc,    "La  religion  Vedique   d'apres   les  hymnes   du  Rig 
Veda." 

-  Rig  Veda,  viii.  60  ;  vi.  3 ;  v.  9. 
^  Ibid.,  X.  91,  II,  12. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  THE    VEDAS.  157 


Agni  is  always  associated  in  the  Vedas  with  Soma,  who 
is  the  second  god  of  the  sacrifice.  He  personifies  the 
sacred  libations.  His  earthly  origin  is  as  humble  as  that 
of  Agni.  He  is  nothing  else  but  the  juice  distilled  from 
plants  which  are  the  locks  of  the  mountain.  After  the 
juice  is  expressed,  it  is  passed  through  a  sieve  and  then 
poured  into  wooden  cups  and  mixed  with  water,  clotted 
milk  and  ground  corn.^  Thus  prepared  it  becomes  the 
drink  of  immortality.  Soma  performs  upon  earth  the 
same  office  as  Agni. 

Under  the  same  unpretending  material  form,  both 
conceal  their  supreme  glory.  Before  they  came  into 
being  on  the  hearth  and  in  the  press  under  the  hands  of 
men,  they  had  each  a  divine  history.  There  was  something 
in  them  far  higher  than  the  spark  produced  by  the  fretting 
of  the  stones,  or  the  juice  dropping  from  the  press. 
They  represented  two  great  elements  of  nature — the 
essential  fire  which  runs  in  some  sort  through  the  veins 
of  all  that  live,  and  the  humid  element.  These  two 
great  elements,  fire  and  water,  not  only  permeate  the 
world,  they  come  down  from  heaven,  where  they  existed 
from  all  eternity.  The  terrestrial  Soma  came  down  from 
heaven  no  less  than  Agni.  Born  on  high,  he  has  come 
to  live  on  earth.^  He  enters  with  the  rain  into  the  life  of 
plants,^  he  is  present  in  the  three  regions  of  the  universe.'* 
Thus  the  holy  libation  is  poured  out  three  times  a  day. 
Agni  belongs  in  the  same  manner  to  the  three  spheres. 
He  was  born  the  first  time  in  heaven,  the  second  time  on 
earth,  and  the  third  time  in  the  clouds,  whence  he  darts 
forth  as  the  lightning.^  In  fact  he  is  not  only  confounded 
with  the  lightning,  but  wdth  the  splendour  of  the  sun. 
In  a  hymn  to  Agni  we  find  :  "He  whose  power  even  the 
heavens  admire,  clothes  himself  in  light,  like  the  sun. 
Like  the  sun,  O  Agni,  thou  hast  girdled  the  worlds  with 
thy  bright  beams.     At  thy  shining,  darkness  fled  away.'"* 

Thus  this  fire  which,  under  the  eyes  of  man,  consumes 
the  wood  on  his  hearth  and  licks  up  his  sacrifices  is  a  great 

'  Rig  Veda,  v.  4;  ix.  78;  ix.  7,  2.  ■*  Ibid.,  i.  91,  4. 

2  Ibid.,  ix.  66,  28.  *  Ibid.,  x.  45,  I. 

*  Ibid.,  ix.  61,  10.  *  Ibid.,  vi.  4,  3,  6, 


158    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

god,  an  immortal  among  mortals.  On  this,  his  celestial 
side,  Agni  is  confounded  with  the  great  gods.  "  O  Agni," 
it  is  said  to  him,  "  thou  art  Varuna,  thou  art  Mitra,  all  the 
gods  are  in  thy  flame.  Thou  art  Indra  to  him  who  pours 
libations."  Nor  does  Soma  preserve  a  more  distinct 
individuality  than  Agni.  He  also  is  put  on  the  same 
level  as  the  sun,^  and  is  thus  admitted  into  the  great 
divine  unity  in  which  all  seeming  differences  vanish.  Both 
Agni  and  Soma  are  in  truth  only  one  and  the  same 
cosmical  element  under  two  forms,  and  are  consequently 
one  and  the  same  god.  The  lightning,  which  is  Agni, 
comes  forth  from  the  atmospheric  vapour,  which  is  Soma. 
Thus  it  is  said  of  Soma  that  he  burns  and  shines  like 
fire.^  When  the  big  thunder-clouds  are  rent  by  the 
lightnings,  he  comes  down  in  the  life-quickening  form 
of  rain.^  The  humid  element  which  he  communicates 
to  all  plant-life,  has  in  it  a  heart  of  fire.  Wood  is  made 
to  burn  by  the  hand  of  man.  Thus  Agni  and  Soma  are 
in  essence  one.  Hence  it  is  said  of  Agni  as  of  Soma, 
that  he  is  diffused  in  all  plants,  of  which  he  is  the  divine 
foetus.  "  He  dwells  victorious  in  the  woods,  the  friend  of 
man  ;  he  grows  up  with  power  in  plants,  in  nations,  in  the 
breasts  of  mothers  ;  the  waters  know  him  ;  he  dwells  in 
the  house  of  the  wise."  *  Thus  both  elements  of  the 
sacrifice  are  deified,  identified  with  each  other,  and  con- 
founded with  the  supreme  god,  who  after  having  made 
the  world,  sustains  universal  life. 

This  apotheosis  of  the  two  chief  elements  of  sacrifice, 
suggests  the  special  significance  that  comes  to  be  attached 
to  them  in  the  religion  of  the  Vedas.  The  first  con- 
sequence of  this  absolute  deification  of  Agni  and  Soma  is 
that  they  are  at  once  the  objects  and  the  substance  of  the 
sacrifice.  Sacrifice  is  presented  to  the  gods  by  offering 
them  to  themselves.  Again,  the  victim  being  confounded 
with  the  great  god,  is  not  passive  in  the  sacrifice.  It 
presents  itself  a  victim.  The  sacrifice  and  the  priest 
cannot  be  distinguished  from  one  another.  The  truth  is 
that  the  life  of  the  world,  which  is  a  divine  life,  is  only  one 
great,  never  ending  sacrifice,  which  the  gods  are  offering 

'  Rig  Veda,  viii.  3,  20.  ^  Ibid.,  ix.  55,  I. 

^  Ibid.,  ix.  loi.  "  Ibid.,  i.  67. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  THE    VEDAS.  159 

to  themselves/  Agni  is  the  divinely  appointed  priest  of 
the  gods  ;  ^   but  all  the  gods  share  in  the  same  office. 

Agni  was  begotten  in  heaven  by  the  heavenly  music  of 
the  gods,  that  he  should  fill  the  earth  with  power.  They 
gave  him  a  triple  form,  and  one  of  his  manifestations 
was  terrestrial  fire.^  Hence  it  follows  that  the  life  of  the 
universe  is  nothing  else  than  a  sacrifice.  The  light  which 
fills  the  heavens  is  the  eternal  offering  of  the  immortal 
Agni.  The  water  which  flows  through  the  three  worlds, 
is  the  unending  sacrifice  of  the  celestial  Soma.  And  as 
all  the  gods,  regarded  under  this  aspect,  blend  in  these 
two  cosmical  deities,  the  divine  life,  like  the  life  of  the 
world,  is  the  ceaseless  celebration  of  a  universal  worship, 
having  for  its  sacred  hymns  the  sublime  crash  of  the 
thunder,  and  for  its  altar-flames  the  burning  rays  of  the 
sun  and  the  lightning  flashes  rending  the  clouds,  "  Both 
worlds  trembled,"  it  is  said,  "  when  the  sacrifice  of  the 
storm  was  offered." 

Worship  upon  earth  is  only  the  repetition  of  the 
heavenly  worship.  "  The  gods  have  made  the  heavenly 
sacrifice  and  have  taught  it  to  men."  The  sacred  fire 
which  consumes  the  victim,  and  the  sacred  water  which 
moistens  it,  feed  the  life  of  the  heavenly  gods  by  restoring 
to  them  that  which  they  have  poured  out  upon  the  earth, 
and  which  returns  in  a  manner  to  its  source,  to  be 
incessantly  renewed.  Thus  the  fife  of  the  world  is  one 
perpetual  cycle;  it  is  poured  forth  from  the  bosom  of 
the  gods  only  to  return  to  them  again.  They  sacrifice 
themselves  in  the  rich  gift  of  life,  and  creation  in  its  turn, 
sacrifices  to  them  in  the  life  laid  upon  the  altar.  Thus 
the  sacrifice  from  below  is  the  response  to  the  sacrifice 
from  above,  and  as  god  is  in  everything  and  everything 
is  god,  both  sacrifice  and  sacrificer  are  essentially  one 
with  the  supreme  being.  It  is  said  that  he  sacrifices 
himself  to  produce  all  that  exists. 

Man  thus  enters  into  the  great  divine  unity.  He  is 
a  son  of  the  gods  by  virtue  of  the  principle  of  universal 
life  which  flows  in  his  veins — that  hidden  fire  which  the 
rain  infuses  into  the  plant,  and  which  is  in  truth  the 
glorious  Agni,  who  after  emerging  from  the  waters,  kindles 

I  Rig  Veda,  x.  109.  ^  Ibid.,  x.  109,  3.  *  Ibid.,  x.  88. 


i6o    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

the  flame  upon  hearth  and  altar.  "Think,  O  ye  gods," 
sings  the  Vedic  poet,  "  how  near  akin  we  are  to  you. 
We  share  our  common  brotherhood,  O  bounteous  ones, 
even  in  our  mother's  womb,"  ^  that  is,  in  the  bosom  of  the 
cloud.  In  other  words,  we  proceed,  like  you,  from  the 
humid  element  whence  life  comes  forth  with  the  light- 
ning's flash.  Men  are  begotten  of  Agni ;  he  is  their  first 
father.^  They  are  priests  like  him.^  He  is  the  Brahman 
par  excellence.  Thus  the  ancestors  of  the  race,  the  glorious 
Risliis,  heads  of  the  priestly  families,  of  whom  it  is  said 
that  they  are  born  of  the  gods,  bear  names  which  may  be 
applied  to  Agni.  The  names  of  Angiras,  of  Brighu  (the 
lightning),  of  Vasishtha,  of  Manu  (the  thinker),  by  which 
the  human  priests  are  designated,  are  also  applied  to  Agni 
in  several  stanzas  of  the  Vedas.*  This  identification  of 
the  priest  with  Agni  comes  out  clearly  in  many  passages 
already  quoted.'^ 

As  the  earthly  sacrifice  is  the  reproduction  of  the 
heavenly,  and  possesses  real  virtue  to  nourish  the  gods 
Vi^ith  their  own  proper  substance,  we  can  understand  what 
importance  is  attached  to  its  regular  and  due  performance. 
In  the  first  prayer,  the  officiating  priest  asks  the  gods  not 
to  suffer  him  to  stray  from  the  true  path  of  sacrifice.  The 
beneficial  effect  of  the  sacrifice  upon  the  gods  comes  out  in 
the  following  hymn  :  "  The  gods  appointed  first  the  lovely 
song,  then  Agni,  then  the  libation.  He  became  the 
sacrifice  that  guards  the  body ;  him  earth,  heaven  and 
the  waters  know."  ^  By  virtue  of  their  sacrifice,  the  fore- 
fathers of  the  race  drew  out  from  the  rock-caves  where 
they  were  imprisoned,  the  cows  of  dawn,  the  good  milch 
kine,  who  flood  the  earth  with  light."  ^  "To  thee,  O  god 
Agni,  we  burn  the  clear  undying  flame,  that  its  brightness 
may  reach  thee  in  the  heaven  and  streams  of  light  may 
come  down  upon  the  singers."  ^  The  celestial  heroes  join 
to  kindle  the  fire  of  the  sacrifice  when  men  lovingly  offer 
it.  "  The  man  prospers  who  devoutly  worships  Agni."  ^  A 
like  virtue  is  ascribed  to  the  sacrifice  of  the  Soma  (libation). ^° 

*  Rig  Veda,  viii.  72,  8.         *  Bergaigne,  vol.  i.  p.  47.         '  Ibid.,  iv.  i,  13. 

*  Ibid.,  i.  96;  ii.  lOl.  ^  Rig  Veda,  viii.  43,  14.  *  Ibid.,  v.  6,  4. 

*  Ibid.,  iii.  i.  ^  Ibid.,  x.  88,  8.  »  Ibid.,  vi.  2,  3, 

10  Bergaigne,  i.  p.  202, 


THE  RELIGION  OF  THE    VEDAS.  i6i 

The  offering  itself  is  deified.  We  have  already  seen 
how  prayer,  the  repetition  of  holy  words,  is  repeatedly 
mentioned  as  one  of  the  most  important  parts  of  the 
sacrifice.  Prayer  is  a  divinity  like  Agni  and  Soma.  It 
has,  like  them,  its  dwelling  in  heaven.  The  cloud  prays 
while  it  thunders,  for  it  utters  a  powerful  word  of  blessing. 
The  reverberation  of  the  sea,  which  is  the  very  voice  of 
Soma,  is  a  holy  hymn.^  In  rising  from  earth  to  heaven, 
prayer,  like  Agni  and  Soma,  is  returning  to  its  own  place. 
Sacred  hymns  are  the  echo  of  the  songs  of  the  immortals.^ 
The  power  of  prayer  is  unbounded.  It  is  like  a  winged 
dart  to  strike  down  the  evil  spirits.  It  acts  upon  the 
rising  of  the  sun,  and  upon  the  storm.  Prayers  unlock 
the  mountain  where  the  dawn  lies  hidden,  and  bring  down 
the  rain  from  heaven.^  All  this  shows  that  prayer  is 
itself  a  god  identical  with  the  greatest.  Brahmanaspati  is 
the  "  lord  of  spells  or  of  prayer."  *  A  priest  himself,  he 
is  the  god  of  the  priests,  and  his  importance  grows  witli 
theirs.  Identified  with  the  dawn,  he  reigns  over  three 
worlds.^  The  Vedas  anticipate  his  coming  glory,  for 
one  hymn  calls  him  already,  "  The  divinest  of  the  host 
of  gods." " 

We  have  but  scanty  information  as  to  the  mode  of 
worship  in  the  period  of  the  Vedas.  The  priest  at  that 
time  practised  none  of  the  rigid  asceticism,  Vvhich  he 
afterwards  came  to  regard  as  the  highest  degree  of  per- 
fection. Worship  then  consisted  essentially  of  sacrifice 
accompanied  by  the  invocations  which  form  the  basis  of 
the  Vedic  hymns.  The  offerings  consisting  of  melted 
butter,  clotted  milk,  rice  cakes,  and  sacred  libations,  were 
thrown  into  the  fire;  it  was  thought  that  the  gods  con- 
sumed them.  There  was  a  deep  hidden  meaning  in  these 
rites,  the  milk  and  butter  pointing  to  the  celestial  streams 
from  which  Agni  emerged.  The  libations  were  repeated 
three  times  a  day  to  represent  the  three  kingdoms  over 
which  Soma  and  Agni  reigned.  Bulls,  cows,  buffaloes 
and   rams  were   sacrificed    to    the    cods.      The    sacrifice 


•  Rig  Veda,  x.  14,  I.  *  Ibid.,  v.  45,  i. 

•  Ibid.,  X.  144,  I.  *  Ibid.,  iv.  50,  I. 

•  Ibid.,  ii.  23    I.  «  Ibid.,  ii.  24,  3,  II. 

II 


i6j     the  ancient  JVORLD  and  CHRISTIANITY. 

of  the  horse  AsvaniedJia^  was  of  special  significance  ;  it 
was  Hkened  to  Agni  and  Soma.  In  the  worship  of  the 
Vedas,  there  were  no  idols  nor  sanctuaries  properly  so 
called.     The  real  altar  was  the  family  hearth.^ 

The  cosmical  aspect  of  the  sacrifice  was  doubtless 
forgotten  by  most  of  those  who  oftered  it.  They  had 
an  idea  that  sacrifice  had  some  magical  efficacy  to  secure 
good  gifts  from  the  gods,  and  often  regarded  it  too  much 
as  a  mere  bargain.  We  are  quite  prepared,  however,  to 
admit  that  the  idea  of  sacrifice  may  have  sometimes  risen 
higher,  and  that  in  some  of  those  flashes  of  moral  truth 
which  now  and  again  illumined  this  pantheistic  religion, 
conscience  may  have  associated  with  it  some  thought  of 
reparation  for  wrong  done. 

Faith  in  immortality  is  categorically  expressed  in  the 
Vedas,  as  we  gather  from  such  words  as  these  :  "  May 
we,  like  the  ripe  fruit  from  the  bough,  be  loosed  from 
death  but  not  from  immortality."  ^  "  In  dying  we  go 
to  the  gods."  ^  This  belief  in  a  future  life  was  closely 
connected  with  the  cosmical  theodicy  of  which  Agni 
and  Soma  formed  the  centre.  We  have  seen  that  the 
essential  vital  element  in  man  is  the  fire  which  itself 
comes  down  from  heaven.  It  is  natural  that  it  should 
return  to  its  source.  The  terrestrial  Agni  must  be  re- 
united to  the  celestial  Agni  whence  he  emanated,  as  the 
flame  of  the  altar  bears  the  offering  which  it  has  consumed, 
upward  to  the  abode  of  the  gods.*  The  Vedas  regard  the 
heavens  as  the  sphere  of  the  other  and  higher  life,  as 
is  shown  by  such  expressions  as  these  :  "  May  we  arrive 
at  the  abode  of  the  bull,  of  abundant  fruitfulness ! "  ^ 
"  May  I  attain  to  the  blessed  abode  where  pious  men 
rejoice  ! " 

It  was  because  of  this  assimilation  of  the  dead  to  the 
sacrificial  fire  rising  heavenward,  that  cremation  was  soon 
substituted  for  burial.  The  belief  in  immortality  was 
however  definitely  expressed  before  the  change  in  the 
funeral  rites.     "  Go,"  it  was  said  to  the  buried  dead,  "  go 


'  Barth,  "Religion  of  India."  *  Ibid.,  i.  125,  8. 

'  Rig  Veda,  vii.  59,  12.  •"  Ibid.,  x.  i,  6,  7. 

*  Ibid.,  X.  40,  1 1. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  THE    VEDAS.  163 

to  the  bosom  of  our  mother  earth.  She  opens  her  arms 
to  receive  thee  in  her  kind  embrace.  Softly  she  wraps 
her  covering  round  thee.  Beneath  her  sheltering  roof 
is  food  and  safet}'."  ^  Cremation  became  a  vivid  symbol 
of  the  life  beyond  the  grave,  the  conception  of  which  was 
to  a  great  extent  materialistic,  for  the  flame  from  the 
funeral  pyre  was  supposed  really  to  carry  the  soul  to 
heaven.  "The  daring  god  who  rejoices  in  the  glowing 
fire,  shall  not  catch  thee  in  his  grip  to  burn  thee,"  ^  it 
is  said  to  the  dead  man.  The  dead  go  to  inhabit  the 
luminous  abodes  of  Agni  in  the  sun,  and  thenceforward 
the  three  worlds  are  open  to  them  as  to  him.  Yama 
is  the  king  of  the  blessed.^  "  Unite  thyself  to  Yama,  and 
the  fathers,"  it  is  said  to  the  dead  man,  "and  thou  shalt 
find  every  wish  fulfilled  in  highest  heaven."  * 

Yama  is  the  son  of  Vivasvat,  the  shining  one,  who  is 
often  likened  to  Agni  as  priest.  Manu  is  another  Yama, 
and  like  him  head  of  the  human  race  and  son  of  Vivasvat. 

We  see  how  indefinite  are  these  relations  of  father 
and  son  in  the  Vedas.  Manu  and  Yama  are  both  some- 
times confounded  with  Vivasvat,  which  is  another  name 
for  Agni,^  and  therefore  a  solar  god.  Yama  is  the  first 
man,  and  the  first  to  die.  He  represents  the  divine  fire 
which  only  descends  from  heaven  to  return  thither  again. 
Around  him  are  the  fathers  of  the  Aryans,  the  celestial 
priests,  leading  a  life  of  blessedness  under  the  shade 
of  spreading  branches  They  possess  the  divine  essence 
and  are  ever  fulfilling  the  divine  law.  This  they  do, 
not  only  in  the  celestial  regions,  but  on  the  earth  also. 
They  are  honoured  under  the  name  of  Pitris.  Foremost 
in  their  shining  ranks  are  the  Atharvans  and  the  Angiras, 
the  divine  singers  of  old.  They  receive  the  sacrifices  of 
their  descendants,*^  but  no  clear  idea  is  conveyed  of  their 
mode  of  life  in  their  divine  abode.  Like  Agni,  they  come 
down  to  earth  in  the  person  of  their  descendants,  to  be 
again  caught  up  to  heaven  with  the  immortal  fire.  The 
doctrine  of  metempsychosis  is  however  quite  undeveloped 
in  this  phase  of  the  religion  of  India. 


'  Rig  Veda,  x.  18.  lO— 13.  <  Ibid.,  x.  14,  8. 

*  Ibid.,  X.  16,   7.  *  Bergaigne,  vol  i.  pp.  87— { 

•  Ibid.,  X.  16,  9.  «   Rfg  Veda,  x.  154,  1. 


1 64     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

Very  little  is  said  about  the  judgment  of  the  wicked. 
It  seems  that  the  two  fierce  dogs  which  accompany  Yama, 
are  designed  to  guard  the  entrance  of  heaven  against  them, 
but  there  remains  a  thick  veil  over  this  aspect  of  the  final 
judgment.  This  is  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at,  for  in 
spite  of  occasional  flashes  of  higher  truth,  the  moral  idea 
is  really  alien  to  the  worship  of  Agni  and  Soma. 

There  is  no  true  recognition  of  it  till  the  worship  of 
Varuna  has  become  fully  developed,  and  we  have  no  data 
to  determine  precisely  when  this  was.  It  is  certain  that 
as  long  as  the  religious  conception  attached  to  the  gods 
of  the  sacrifices  prevailed,  the  moral  idea  was  stifled  by 
the  cosmical.  The  natural  life  was  completely  identified 
with  the  divine  which  embraced  the  universe  in  one  vast 
cycle.  In  Soma  it  appears  as  floods  of  water  streaming 
from  an  inexhaustible  source  to  return  thither  again.  In 
Agni  there  is  the  same  complete  cycle  of  fire.  The  sacri- 
fice of  the  gods  is  the  continuous  production  of  this  life 
of  the  world,  which  returns  to  its  source  in  the  sacrifice 
offered  upon  earth.  That  which  is  true  of  universal  life 
is  true  also  of  the  individual.  Man  is  a  microcosm  ;  his 
history  reproduces  the  history  of  the  world.  His  immor- 
tality is  only  the  return  to  the  celestial  fire  of  the  divine 
spark,  which  animated  him  for  an  instant  here  below.  It 
follows  that  the  worship  of  the  Vedas  at  the  time  of  the 
adoration  of  Agni  and  Soma,  was  only  the  faithful  symbolic 
expression  of  a  grand  pantheism,  the  ultimate  development 
of  which  would  be  the  worship  of  the  divine  unity  under- 
lying the  contingent  and  the  transitory. 

In  spite  of  the  morbid  influence  of  the  prevailing 
naturisra,  some  of  the  Vedic  hymns  addressed  to  the 
gods  of  the  sacrifices,  rise  abruptly  to  the  purest  heights 
of  moral  consciousness.  The  poet  seems  to  forget  that 
he  has  before  him  only  natural  elements  deified,  and 
appeals  to  Agni  and  Soma  as  to  merciful  gods.  Can  it 
be  to  a  deified  libation  that  the  following  prayer  is 
addressed:  "O  Soma,  high  in  wisdom,  thou  guidest  in 
the  right  way.  Through  thy  leading  have  our  fathers, 
the  wise  ones,  found  joy  and  safety  among  the  gods. 
Thou  art  full  of  wisdom,  O  Soma,  and  mighty  in  power. 
Thou   art  a  bull  in  thy  strength   and  greatness.     Thine 


THE  RELIGION  OF  THE    VEDAS.  165 

are  the  laws  of  King  Varuna.  High  and  deep  is  thy  state, 
O  Soma.  Thou  shinest  clear  as  Mitra,  the  beloved,  thou 
art  to  be  honoured  as  Aryaman."  ^  "  Be  good  to  us," 
says  the  worshipper  of  Agni,  to  his  god,  "  as  a  father 
to  his  son."  Sometimes  the  gods  of  the  sacrifice  are 
invoked  as  if  they  knew  what  holiness  and  pity  meant. 
"  Soma  heals  all  who  are  sick  ;  he  makes  the  blind  to  see, 
and  the  lame  to  walk.  Thou  dost  shield  us,  O  Soma, 
from  the  sorrows  we  make  for  ourselves,  and  from  those 
that  spring  from  others.  That  which  is  lost  he  brings 
back,  and  uplifts  the  pious."  ^  Agni  acts  the  part  of 
mediator  between  earth  and  heaven.  All  the  gods  make 
him  their  messenger.^  In  one  hymn  addressed  to  the 
same  gods  we  read  :  "  Ye  gods  who  are  our  kindred,  be 
gracious  to  me,  who  pray  to  you.  I  confess  much  wrong 
that  I  have  done  3^ou,  and  j-e  have  punished  me  as  a 
father  his  son.  Remove  from  me  the  strokes,  remove  the 
sins."* 

We  must  make  allowance  in  pra3'ers  like  these,  for 
the  retrospective  influence  exerted  b}'^  a  higher  worship 
upon  that  which  preceded  it,  through  the  tendency 
we  have  already  noticed  in  this  religion  to  confound 
all  the  separate  gods  with  one  another. 


§   V. — Indra. 

It  is  not  possible  that  the  explanation  of  all  things 
should  be  found  in  the  perpetual  renewal  and  expansion  of 
life.  In  opposition  to  the  principle  of  life,  there  is  every- 
where the  power  of  death.  In  the  sky  we  see  the  thick 
heavy  cloud  which  seems  the  grave  of  the  light.  The 
demon  of  darkness  holds  the  dawn  imprisoned,  as  a 
robber  shuts  up  cows  in  a  cave.  Upon  earth  the  power 
of  destruction  blasts  the  fields  with  barrenness,  smites 
the  flocks  and  strikes  down  man  in  his  prime.  Lastly, 
the  enemy  with  the  black  hair  and  dark  skin  attacks  the 
noble  Aryan  race.  This  evil  element  bears  many  names 
in  the  Vedas,  and  appears  under  various  forms.     He  is 

1  Rig  Veda,  i.  91.  s  Ibid.,  ii.,  viii.  23.  18. 

\  Ibid.,  viii.  68.  «  Ibid.,  ii.  29,  4,  5. 


i66    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

sometimes  called  Vritra,  the  enveloper,  a  name  which 
indicates  that  he  is  primarily  a  demoniacal  power  in  the 
atm.osphere,  which  enshrouds  the  light  or  imprisons  the 
fertilising  waters  ;^  at  other  times  he  is  called  Ahi,  the 
cloud-serpent.  These  are  the  leaders,  the  Dakshas,  and 
are  demons  of  darkness  in  the  heavens,  and  enemies  of 
the  Aryans  upon  earth.  For  the  conflict  in  heaven  has 
always  its  counterpart  upon  earth.  If  the  power  of  these 
evil  spirits  was  not  resisted,  the  world  would  become 
theirs.  A  powerful  god  carries  on  the  war  with  them, 
sustained  by  brave  auxiliaries. 

This  powerful  God  is  Indra,  "the  Vedic  Jupiter,  who 
reaches  the  enemy  and  overcomes  him,  standing  on  the 
summit, /n^c  of  speech,  most  powerful  in  thought."^  His 
first  battle  field  is  the  heavenly  regions.  There  he  must 
conquer,  before  pursuing  and  crushing  his  enemies  upon 
earth,  who  are  also  the  enemies  of  the  Aryan  race.  Indra 
is  peculiarly  the  storm-god ;  the  thunder  is  his  weapon.^ 
He  is  at  first  the  simple  personification  of  a  force  of 
nature,  the  lightning  flash  of  deadly  effect.  But  by  the 
very  fact  that  as  God  of  the  universal  conflict,  he  becomes 
a  historical  figure,  and  draws  near  to  man  to  succour 
and  deliver  him,  he  is  invested  with  a  far  more  marked 
individuality  than  that  of  the  gods  of  the  sacrifices,  and 
yet  he  also  becomes  in  the  end  confounded  with  all  the 
rest,  and  is  lost  in  the  obscure  abyss  of  the  impersonal 
gods. 

This  is  the  final  term  to  which  the  Vedic  conception  must 
logically  lead,  but  above  logic  we  have  to  deal  with  real 
life,  the  life  of  a  feeble  creature  like  man,  exposed  to  peril, 
suffering  and  death.  He  needs  a  divine  deliverer,  who 
shall  fight  for  him  against  the  powers  of  evil  by  which  he 
is  surrounded  on  every  side.  Thus  he  clings  with  passion- 
ate ardour  to  the  divine  champion  of  light  and  life.  He 
makes  him  for  a  time  a  living  god,  whose  help  can  be 
invoked  in  all  need  and  in  whose  goodness  he  may  safely 
trust.  This  god,  the  son  of  power,  the  celestial  bull,*  who 
wears  the  heaven  as  a  helmet,^  fights  not  for  himself  but 

'  Rig  Veda,  x.  38,  3.  ^  Ibid.,  iii.  13,  31. 

^  "fndia,''  Max  Muller,  p.  65.  ^  Ibid.,  ii.  17,  I. 

*  Rig  Veda,  i.  130,  4;  loi,  i.     Indra  comes  from  llin,  to  burn. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  THE    VEDAS.  167 

for  men.  He  shares  the  spoil  with  his  faithful  ones,*  and 
gives  them  strength  themselves  to  overcome.'-^  The  constant 
ally  of  pious  warriors,  he  provides  his  suppliants  with 
horses  and  cows,  as  he  gathers  the  clouds  by  the  voice  of 
his  thunder.^  Lastly  it  is  he  who  gives  victory  to  his 
followers  in  the  conflict  of  nation  with  nation ;  it  is  to  him 
therefore  that  all  eyes  are  turned  for  help.  The  prayers 
which  he  inspires  in  his  worshippers  are  full  of  trust  and 
gratitude,  and  often  breathe  a  truly  lofty  sentiment. 

As  we  have  already  said,  it  is  in  the  celestial  regions 
that  he  has  his  first  conflicts  with  the  demons  of  dark- 
ness. He  delivers  the  cows  of  light,  the  divine  dawns, 
and  gives  back  to  the  sun  his  splendour.* 

The  great  battle  of  the  storm  is  described  by  the  Vedic 
poets  with  incomparable  power.  Lifting  his  majestic 
head  like  the  lofty  summit  of  the  Himalyas,  and  roaring 
with  his  thunder  which  seems  hke  the  bellowing  of  the 
heavenly  bull,  the  mighty  god  scatters  terror  all  around. 
The  trees  of  the  valley  bow  in  affright,  the  granite  moun- 
tains shake  as  if  they  were  but  dust.^  He  breaks  the 
power  of  Vritra  in  the  heavens,  and  rends  the  veils  in 
which  he  had  bound  even  the  waters.  He  wields  his 
lightning;  he  has  sharpened  it  like  a  practised  cutler,  and 
as  one  fells  a  tree  with  an  axe,  so  he  cuts  down  the 
dragon.® 

He  is  not  alone  in  this  terrible  conflict ;  under  him 
fight  the  Maruts,  the  storm  gods.  Their  chief  is  Riidra, 
the  howler,  the  fairhaired  god,  who  only  wields  the  thunder 
in  the  behalf  of  man  and  to  protect  his  herds.  '  We  shall 
find  him  playing  presently  an  important  part  in  the  Brah- 
man mythology.  The  company  of  the  Maruts  are  mounted 
on  a  shining  car ;  the  lance  of  a  thousand  colours  is  in 
their  hand  with  the  glittering  spear.  The  cracking  of 
their  whips  is  heard  from  afar.  Their  troop  moves  for- 
ward with  dazzling  swiftness.  Beneath  their  tread  the 
earth  trembles  like  an  aged  woman.  Man  bows  before 
them  in  awe.  ^     They  low  like  a  cow  after  her  calf     They 

"  Rig  Veda,  i.  55,  5  ;  viii.  45,  40,  ^  Ibid.,  i.  54  ;  i.  55 ;  >•  63. 

*  Ibid.,  i.  8,  3.  «  Ibid.,  i.  130;  iv.  17. 

*  Ibid.,  vi.  44,  12.  '  Ibid.,  i.  37. 

*  Ibid.,  viii.  6,  28;  vi.  17,  5.  *  Ibid.,  i.  57. 


i68     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

glow  with  the  ruddy  hght  of  fire  ;  they  roar  hke  lions. 
Vayu,  the  wind,  is  the  faithful  companion  of  Indra  ;  it  is 
he  who  awakens  the  sky  and  makes  it  visible,  the  earth 
also,  clothing  it  with  the  purple  of  the  morning.  Glorious 
is  his  chariot.  He  goes  on  his  way  spreading  rosy  light 
over  the  sky,  and  lifting  the  dust  from  the  earth.  Under 
his  breath  the  waters  rush  along  like  women  hurrying  to 
an  assembly.  This  first-born  of  the  waters  never  sleeps. 
Whence  comes  he  ?  Who  made  him  ?  He,  the  spirit  of 
the  gods,  the  germ  of  the  world,  goes  where  he  will.  His 
voice  is  heard  ;  his  form  is  not  seen.^ 

Indra,  after  triumphing  in  the  celestial  regions,  begins 
to  fight  upon  earth ;  he  is  the  national  god  of  the  Aryans. 
By  his  help  the  black-skinned  races  are  subdued  and  the 
Aryans  take  their  flocks.  Thus  his  protection  is  invoked 
on  the  day  of  battle,  when  the  sharp  arrows  fly  through 
the  air,  when  the  combatants  use  their  muscles,  when  the 
chariots  rush  down  the  slopes  like  falcons  upon  their  prey, 
and  sweep  along  like  overflowing  torrents.  ^  The  favour 
of  Indra  is  secured  by  sacrifice  and  prayer.  Sacrifice 
is  more  than  mere  homage  ;  it  augments  the  strength  of 
the  god.  The  Soma  renews  in  him  the  divine  substance ; 
for  it  is  from  its  nutritive  juice,  as  from  the  vital  fire  of 
Agni,  that  he  derives  his  strength.  Sometimes  he  appears 
to  be  confounded  with  Agni  and  Soma,  who  are  always 
present  in  the  sacrifices  offered  to  him.  He  shares  in  the 
dignity  of  these  gods.  Like  them  he  is  called  the  creator 
of  heaven  and  earth.  Though  he  occupies  a  position  of 
such  supreme  dignity,  he  still  needs,  like  the  other  gods, 
to  be  sustained  b}'  the  sacrificial  aliments.  Thus  fortified 
he  contends  victoriously  with  the  serpent  Ahi. 

The  sacrifice  ofiercd  on  the  earthly  altar  corresponds  to 
the  heavenly,  of  which  it  is  a  reproduction.  In  the  upper 
sphere  the  gods  serve  as  priests.  ^  Upon  earth  the  offer- 
ings brought  to  Indra  are  oxen,  sheep,  grain,  cakes,  but 
above  all  the  Soma  which  refreshes  him  in  both  worlds 
and  fills  him  with  new  energy.*  Prayers  form  an  im- 
portant part  of  the  worship   of  Indra.     Their  influence 

'  Rig  Veda,  x.  i6S.  » Ibid.,  iv.  24,  5. 

*  Ibid.,  viii.  36,4.  ■•  Ibid.,  x.  122. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  THE   VEDAS.  169 

for  good  is  expressed  in  this  beautiful  figure :  "  When 
the  singers  among  men  have  lifted  up  their  voices^  then 
that  which  they  desire  grows  like  a  branch."  Prayers 
ought  always  to  accompany  the  Soma,  which  they  embrace 
like  loving  spouses.  They  thus  reinforce  the  vigour  of 
the  god  by  the  magical  virtue  of  the  sacred  formula.  As 
the  sea  is  fed  by  the  rivers,  so  Indra  is  strengthened  by 
our  prayers.  -^ 

Prayer  is  now  the  cow  by  which  Indra  is  nourished, 
now  the  arrow  which  his  suppliants  put  into  his  hands, 
now  the  driver  of  his  chariot,  and  sometimes  even  the 
chariot  itself.^ 

Brahmanaspati,  the  lord  of  spells  and  of  prayer,  is  so 
closely  associated  with  Indra,  that  he  seems  sometimes  to 
take  his  place  in  the  conflict  with  the  Vritras.^  Indra 
himself  sings  hymns  in  the  storm.*  His  priests  are  the 
descendants  of  the  glorious  sons  of  Manu,  those  celestial 
sacrificers,  who  by  their  songs  enabled  him  to  break  open 
the  stable  in  which  the  cows  of  dawn  were  shut  up.^ 

There  is  a  peculiarly  close  bond  between  man  and  such 
a  god  as  this,  who  is  his  constant  helper  and  mighty 
deliverer.  "Thou  only  among  the  gods  takest  pity  on 
mortals,'"^  say  his  w^orshippers.  The  trust  placed  in  him 
is  expressed  in  a  touching  manner.  He  is  called  "  The 
ear  that  hears  prayer,"  and  is  thus  addressed :  "  Till  the 
earlier  serves  the  later,  and  the  higher  is  rewarded  by  the 
lower,  and  not  till  then,  will  the  god  hold  aloof  from  us.' 
"  O  glorious  one,  give  us  of  thy  riches.  The  man,  O 
Indra,  who  lovingly  worships  thee,  is  near  to  thee, 
O  Thunderer,  he  is  thy  companion."^  "  I  would  not  part 
with  thee,  O  Indra,  at  any  price  ....  More  art  thou 
to  me  than  father  or  tender  brother.  Like  a  mother,  thou 
fillest  me  with  good.  Whither  art  thou  gone  ?  where 
tarriest  thou  ?  Hasten  hither,  O  warrior-hero,  for  our 
songs  are  sung  to  thee."^  To  the  worshipper  of  Indra, 
life  is  an  overflowing  stream  ;  he  walks  in  the  sunshine 
of    the    divine    favour.       This    favour    is    not    secured 

'  Rig  Veda,  viii.  87.  Ibid.,  x.  61,  7. 

"^  Ibid.,  i.  62;  vi.  47,  10;  X.  41,  i;  viii.  79,  i;  i.  61,  4.     ^  Ibid.,  vii.  23,  5. 

*  Ibid.,  ii.  4;  25,  2.  "  Ibid.,  vii.  132, 

*  Ibid.,  X.  44.  8  j[jjj  ^  yiji_  j_ 


170    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

by  sacrifice  alone ;  the  holy  intention  is  accepted  also. 
"  Though  I  have  no  cows  to  offer,"  says  the  poorer  wor- 
shipper to  Indra,  "I  bring  thee  what  I  have."^  The 
sacrifice  is  accepted  when  the  Soma  is  offered  willingly, 
Indra  sometimes  appears  as  a  god  of  mercy.  The  wretched 
turn  to  him.  "  To  the  darkness  of  the  blind  he  can  bring 
light.     May  Indra  help  us."^ 

Such  appeals  to  compassion  are  rare  in  the  hymns 
addressed  to  Indra.  He  is  generally  the  awful  god  who 
makes  the  mountains,  the  sea,  and  the  burning  deserts 
tremble ;  the  invincible  warrior,  who  overthrows  his 
enemies,  while  he  lavishes  his  gifts  on  those  who  bring 
their  sacrifices  freely  to  him.  In  the  drama  of  nature  as 
of  history,  he  is  above  all  the  mighty  god,  ever  wrestling 
with  the  powers  of  evil.  We  may  quote  in  conclusion  the 
hymn  from  the  Vedas  which  gives  the  most  complete  picture 
of  the  great  god  of  battle. 

"  Keep  silence  well !  we  offer  praise  to  the  great  Indra 
in  the  house  of  the  sacrificer.  Does  he  find  treasure  for 
those  who  are  like  sleepers  ?  Mean  praise  is  not  valued 
among  the  munificent. 

"Thou  art  the  giver  of  horses,  Indra;  thou  art  the 
giver  of  cows,  the  giver  of  corn,  the  strong  lord  of  wealth  ; 
the  old  guide  of  man,  disappointing  no  desires,  a  friend 
to  friends ;  to  him  we  address  this  song. 

"  O  powerful  Indra,  achiever  of  many  works,  most 
brilliant  god — all  this  wealth  around  here  is  known  to 
be  thine  alone.  Take  from  it,  conqueror !  Do  not  stint 
the  desire  of  the  worshipper  who  longs  for  thee  ! 

"  On  these  days  thou  art  gracious,  and  on  these  nights, 
keeping  off  the  enemy  from  our  cows  and  from  our  stud. 
Tearing  the  fiend  night  after  night  with  the  help  of  Indra, 
let  us  rejoice  in  food,  freed  from  haters. 

"Let  us  rejoice,  Indra,  in  treasure  and  food,  in  wealth 
of  manifold  delight  and  splendour.  Let  us  rejoice  in  the 
blessing  of  the  gods  which  gives  us  the  strength  of  offspring, 
gives  us  cows  first  and  horses. 

"  These  draughts  inspired  thee,  O  lord  of  the  brave ! 
these  were  vigoux,  these  libations,  in  battles ;  when  for  the 

'  Rig  Veda,  viii.  91,  19.  *  Ibid.,  i.  lOO. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  THE    VEDAS.  171 

sake    of  the    poet,    the    sacrificer,    thou    struckest    down 
irresistibly  ten  thousands  of  enemies. 


"  We  who  in  future  protected  by  the  gods,  wish  to  be 
thy  most  blessed  friends,  we  shall  praise  thee,  blessed  by 
thee  with  offspring  and  enjoying  henceforth  a  longer 
]ife."i 

One  would  think  that  the  worship  of  this  warrior-god 
should  have  arrested  India  on  the  verge  of  that  abyss  of  the 
unfathomable  unity,  into  which  it  was  about  to  precipitate  it- 
self Thequestion  forces  itself  upon  us  with  special  reference 
to  Indra,  who  at  first  seems  so  much  to  resemble  Ormazd, 
how  it  was  that  this  valiant  god  should  not,  like  the  god 
of  Iran,  have  led  his  followers  on  to  victory  in  the  conflict 
with  death  and  evil?  The  answer  is  not  hard  to  find.  In 
the  first  place,  Indra  never  really  occupied  the  sole  place 
of  supremacy.  He  was  constantly  confounded  with  the 
gods  of  the  sacrifices,  and  thus  came  within  the  circle  of 
pantheistic  syncretism.  Then  he  also  is,  in  the  end,  con- 
founded with  his  worshipper.  Like  Agni  and  Soma,  he 
lives  by  the  sacrifice.  Men  bring  to  him  of  his  proper  sub- 
stance, and  he  is  nourished  by  it.  We  are  thus  met  again 
by  the  metaphysical  difficulty  :  the  created  being  has  no 
proper  life  apart  from  the  infinite  being.  So  long  as  the 
created  and  the  uncreated  are  confounded,  we  cannot  get 
beyond  fatalism  in  the  natural  life,  and  evil  is  only  a 
fiction,  since  it  is  inevitable.  Indra  may  thunder  and 
rage  in  battle,  but  he  is  only  carrying  out,  after  all,  the  in- 
variable law  of  nature,  according  to  which  lightning  and 
storm  always  in  the  end  rend  the  black  cloud,  and  light 
comes  forth  in  morning  radiance  from  her  prison  house  of 
night.  Lastly,  while  the  Iranian  god  shows  a  constant 
tendency  to  rise  above  his  naturalistic  origin,  and  to  be- 
come a  moral  power,  the  Indian  god  remains  so  to  speak 
in  his  heavy  swaddling  clothes.  There  is  nothing  there- 
fore to  prevent  naturism  from  running  its  fatal  course  in 
India,  and  arriving  at  the  inevitable  goal  of  pantheism — 

'  Rig  Veda,  i.  53,  Max  Muller's  Translation :  "  Chips  from  a  German 
Workshop,"  vol.  i.  pp.  31,  32. 


172    THE  ANCIENT  JVORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

the  absorption  of  the  parts  in  the  whole,  because  those 
parts,  having  no  independent  existence,  must  ultimately 
be  lost  in  the  cosmic  unity  and  merged  in  the  absolute. 
The  Soma  with  which  Indra  is  intoxicated  is  not  the 
generous  wine  which  stimulates  to  fruitful  effort.  It  is 
the  great  narcotic  of  the  ancient  East,  the  morbid  fascina- 
tion of  the  pantheistic  idea.  Such  must  of  necessity  be 
the  final  term  of  the  religious  evolution  in  India.  In  vain 
did  the  god  of  battles  hold  for  a  time  all  the  fibres  of  the 
intellectual  life  in  full  tension.  The  reaction  was  not 
strong  enough  to  change  the  whole  character  and  course 
of  the  religion.  It  was  reserved,  moreover,  for  another 
god  than  Indra,  to  lift  the  religious  consciousness  of  India 
to  its  highest  point. 

§  VI.— VaruxXa.i 

It  is  necessary  to  distinguish  between  the  Varuna  of  the 
Vedas  and  the  original  Varuna,  v.^ho  was  the  primitive  god 
of  all  the  Arj^an  race  before  its  dispersion.  We  have  recog- 
nised him  as  the  great  sun-god,  the  god  of  heaven  who, 
without  identifying  himself  with  the  celestial  light,  finds 
in  it  his  highest  manifestation.  He  never  ceases  to  in- 
habit the  heaven  which  is  identified  with  his  name,  but  he 
casts  off  almost  entirely  the  bonds  of  naturism.  Intellec- 
tual and  moral  qualities  predominate  in  him  over  the 
m.ere  notion  of  a  deified  force  of  nature,  and  in  this  respect, 
he  infinitely  surpasses  Indra.  It  is  impossible  to  define 
the  time  or  the  mode  of  this  transition,  for  the  simple 
reason  that  the  religious  conscience  of  India  does  not  take 
a  step  in  advance  without  linking  on  all  the  past,  with  all 
its  gods,  whom  it  identifies  with  the  new  divinity. 

Thus  Agni  and  Soma  were,  so  to  speak,  merged  in 
Indra,  and  all  together  were  afterwards  identified  with 
Varuna.  No  part  of  the  earlier  faith  seems  to  be 
abandoned,  and  yet  this  pantheistic  syncretism  of  the 
gods  received  at  least  for  a  time  a  new  element.  There 
are  even  traces  in  the  best  da^^s  of  the  worship  of  Varuna, 
of  an  evolution  going  beyond  syncretism.     More  than  one 

'  See  M.  Bergaigne,  "La  religion  Vedique.  Varuna,"  to  which  we  are 
largely  indebted. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  THE    VEDAS.  173 

Vedic  hymn  indeed  alludes  to  a  conflict  between  Indra 
and  Varuna.  Indra  seems  sometimes  to  represent  the 
good  element  in  contact  with  Varuna  the  evil.  This 
anomaly,  where  so  great  and  holy  a  god  is  concerned,  is 
to  be  explained  by  the  contrast  on  one  essential  point 
between  Varuna  and  Indra.  Indra  is  always  regarded  as 
the  great  champion  of  the  principle  of  light  against  the  evil 
power,  the  dark  serpent,  the  demon  who  seeks  to  quench 
the  light  in  his  coils.  This  trenchant  opposition  ceases 
when  Varuna  is  looked  upon  as  the  supreme  god.  Dualism 
is  replaced  by  a  conception  which  if  not  monotheistic, 
is  at  least  henotheistic.  Varuna  is  the  first  among  the 
Asuras.  The  word  Asiira  is  used  for  the  supreme  power, 
universal  sovereignty.  In  order  to  express  the  omni- 
potence of  Indra  it  is  said  that  he  exercised  the  Asnra 
among  the  gods.^  The  root  of  Asura  is  Asa,  breath,  the 
life.  Asura  is  the  lord  of  life  who  disposes  of  it 
sovereignly.  Nothing  escapes  this  sovereignty.  There 
is  no  power  which  can  oppose  itself  to  his.  Consequently 
it  is  he  who  bestows  or  holds  back  life  and  its  precious 
gifts ;  it  is  he  who  imprisons  the  light  and  sets  it  free  ; 
he  dispenses  as  he  will  suffering  and  healing ;  he  is  the 
god  who  binds  and  looses. 

The  same  idea  is  attached  to  another  name  of  Varuna 
and  of  the  group  of  gods  over  which  he  presides.  The 
Asiiras  are  also  Adityas,  which  signifies  all-powerful 
sovereigns,  from  the  word  aditi,  free,  not  bound.  It 
follows  that  they  know  no  law  but  their  own  will,  and 
are  the  universal  sovereigns "-  by  whom  the  three  worlds 
are  upheld.^  They  make  the  sun  to  shine  in  unclouded 
splendour,  but  they  also  draw  the  veil  of  night.*  If 
Varuna  sends  forth  the  sun  on  its  wide  orbit,  he  also  hides 
it  from  our  eyes  either  when  night  falls,^  or  when  he 
covers  the  heaven  with  clouds  and  pours  down  the  rain. 
If  in  accordance  with  Indian  syncretism,  he  is  often  con- 
founded with  Agni  and  Soma,**  in  other  passages  of  the 
Vedas  he  is  opposed  to  them  as  an  evil  god.     Thus  the 

greatest  of  the  gods  is  made  for  a  moment  to  seem  the 

^_ — _ , — , — ^ . — , ^ ,  - 

?  Rig  Veda,  vi.  36,  i.  *  Ibid.,  vii.  66,  11. 

?  Ibid.,  viii.  27,  22.  *  Ibid.,  viii.  41,  10, 

?  Ibid    i    27,  4,  6  Ibid.,  viii.  S7,  6  ;  vii  SS,  2, 


174     "^HE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

very  prince  of  the  demons.^  This  strange  confusion  was 
the  natural  consequence  of  a  persistent  dualism. 

The  worshipper  of  Indra  the  warrior-god,  who  maintains 
the  perpetual  conflict  with  evil,  could  not  reconcile  himself 
to  a  god  who  not  only  does  not  fight,  but  who  sends 
the  plagues  which  afflict  the  earth.  This  seemed  to 
him  an  insoluble  contradiction,  so  long  as  he  had  not 
grasped  the  idea  of  the  perfect  freedom  of  the  supreme 
god,  and  learned  to  regard  him  as  absolute  goodness.  The 
religious  consciousness  of  the  Aryans  of  India  rose  very 
nearly  to  this  height  in  the  palmy  days  of  the  worship 
of  Varuna,  but  it  was  only  for  a  time,  and  never  without 
an  admixture  of  lower  elements. 

The  two  great  ideas  of  sovereignty  and  of  holiness 
really  permeated  more  or  less  the  religious  conception  of 
which  Varuna  was  the  embodiment.  He  was  regarded 
indeed  as  the  sovereign  god,  inasmuch  as  nothing  was 
beyond  his  sway,  and  he  had  no  need  to  fight  in  order  to 
give  light  to  the  world.  The  exercise  of  his  magic,  that 
is  of  his  occult  power,  sufficed.  He  was  then  the  most 
high,  the  all-powerful.  Again,  if  he  was  the  dispenser 
of  evils,  it  was  as  the  avenger  of  the  law.  The  dark 
side  of  his  being  corresponded  to  the  righteous  indigna- 
tion of  offended  justice.  Pain  became  chastisement.  The 
whole  of  religion,  with  its  rites  and  sacrifices,  acquired 
a  new,  a  deeper  and  holier  meaning.  This  explains  the 
lofty,  even  sublime  language,  in  which  some  of  the  Vedic 
hymns  expressed  the  adoration  of  Varuna. 

His  sovereignty  is  manifested  in  the  first  place,  in  the  fact 
that  all  the  other  gods  are  subordinate  to  him,  commenc- 
ing with  Indra,  who  receives  his  thunder  from  him.  This 
great  god  who  established  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  and  is 
exalted  over  all  worlds  as  universal  king,  is  at  the  same  time 
a  father  to  his  creatures.  Thus  the  hymns  to  his  praise 
almost  always  conclude  with  an  appeal  to  his  goodness. 

"  Wise  and  mighty  are  the  works  of  him  who  stemmed 
asunder  the    wide   firmaments   (heaven    and  earth).     He 

'  M,  Bergaigne  (vol.  iii.  p.  113)  connects  Varuna,  ovpav&g,  with  the 
root  vri,  envelopment,  which  would  in  one  aspect  assimilate  the  supreme 
god  );o  the  demoniacal  power.  Only  if  darkness  is  among  the  all  things 
which  proceed  from  him,  it  is  the  wicked  whom  he  catches  in  its  nets. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  2 HE    VEDAS.  175 

lifted  on  high  the  bright  and  glorious  heaven  ;  he  stretched 
out  apart  the  starry  sky  and  the  earth. 

"Do  I  say  this  to  my  own  self?  How  can  I  get  unto 
Varuna  ?  Will  he  accept  my  offering  without  displeasure? 
When  shall  I,  with  a  quiet  mind,  see  him  propitiated  ?  "  ^ 

Varuna  prepared  the  paths  for  the  sun,  and  sent  the 
rivers  running  down  to  the  sea.  He  opened  the  great 
gates  of  day.  The  wind,  the  breath  of  his  mouth,  rushes 
through  space,  like  wild  herds  feeding  in  the  prairie. 
And  in  both  worlds  all  things  are  dear  to  him-  Varuna 
and  Mitra,  who  is  inseparable  from  him,  are  proclaimed 
the  sovereign  rulers  of  the  world.  Their  dominion  over 
the  universe  which  they  have  made  to  be  the  world  of 
man,  has  no  end.^  They  have  made  the  plant  to  grow, 
have  called  the  cows  into  being,  have  given  strength  to 
the  horses,  have  stored  the  fire  in  the  waters,  set  the  sun 
in  the  sky  and  the  Soma  in  the  rocks.  Begirt  with  clouds, 
many-hued  like  the  rainbow,  they  cause  the  rain  to  fall, 
when  the  thunder  rolls  through  the  darkened  heavens, 
and  the  milk  of  the  sky  flows  in  floods.  The  best  gift  of 
Varuna  to  man  is  intelligence  and  wisdom.  Varuna  has 
not  only  omnipotence  but  omniscience.  "  He  who  knows 
the  place  of  the  birds  that  fly  through  the  sky,  who,  on 
the  water,  knows  the  ships ;  He,  the  upholder  of  order, 
who  knows  the  track  of  the  wind,  of  the  wide,  the  bright, 
the  mighty,  and  knows  those  who  reside  on  high.  He, 
the  upholder  of  order,  Varuna,  sits  down  among  his 
people ;  he,  the  wise,  sits  there  to  govern.  From  thence 
perceiving  all  wondrous  things,  he  sees  what  has  been 
and  what  will  be  done.  May  he,  the  wise  Aditya,  make 
our  paths  straight  all  our  days  ;  may  he  prolong  our  lives."  ^ 

The  prayer  of  man  goes  up  to  him.  "O  hear  this  my 
calling,  Varuna,  be  gracious  to  me.  Longing  for  help,  I 
have  called  upon  thee.  Thou,  O  wise  god,  art  lord  of  all, 
of  heaven  and  earth  ;  listen  on  thy  way."  "* 

The  following  fragment  of  the  Atharva  Veda  does  not 
go  beyond  the  lofty  idea  which  the  Vedas  have  given  of 
Varuna. 

>  Rig  Veda,  vii.  86.  ^  Ibid.,  i.  25, 

«  Ibid.,  V.  63.  "  Ibid 


176    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CIIEISTIANITT. 

"The  great  lord  of  these  worlds  sees  as  if  he  were  near. 
If  a  man  thinks  he  is  walking  by  stealth,  the  gods  know 
it  all. 

"  If  a  man  stands  or  walks  or  hides,  if  he  goes  to  lie 
down  or  to  get  up ;  what  two  people  sitting  together 
whisper,  King  Varuna  knows  it ;  he  is  there  as  the  third. 

"This  earth  too  belongs  to  Varuna,  the  king,  and  this 
wide  sky  with  its  ends  far  apart.  The  two  seas  (the  sky 
and  the  ocean)  are  Varuna's  loins  ;  he  is  also  contained 
in  the  small  drop  of  water.  He  who  would  flee  far 
beyond  the  sky,  even  he  would  not  be  rid  of  Varuna  the 
king.  His  spies  proceed  from  heaven  towards  this  world  ; 
with  thousand  eyes  they  overlook  this  earth. 

"  King  Varuna  sees  all  this,  what  is  between  heaven 
and  earth,  and  what  is  beyond.  He  has  counted  the 
twinklings  of  the  eyes  of  men.  As  a  player  throws  the 
dice,  he  settles  all  things. 

"  May  all  thy  fatal  nooses  which  stand  spread  out 
seven  by  seven  and  threefold,  catch  the  man  who  tells  a 
lie  ;  may  they  pass  by  him  who  tells  the  truth."  ^ 

The  conclusion  of  this  hymn  brings  us  to  the  grandest 
characteristic  of  Varuna — holiness.  It  is  not  indeed 
absolute  holiness,  for  there  is  a  considerable  admixture 
of  naturalistic  elements,  but  it  sets  the  idea  of  good  in 
strong  relief  against  the  background  of  superstition  and 
legend.  Good  is  regarded  especially  as  the  opposite  to 
falsehood,  as  is  apparent  from  the  closing  strophe  of  the 
hymn  just  quoted,  and  as  we  might  naturally  expect  in  a 
religion  in  which  the  opposition  between  light  and  dark- 
ness is  more  than  a  symbol.  The  idea  of  law  is  very 
prominent  in  the  prayers  offered  to  Varuna.  "Thy  laws," 
it  is  said,  "  rest  upon  thee  as  on  a  mountain."  Here  the 
reference  is  not  simply  to  the  fixity  of  natural  law  by 
which  the  courses  of  the  stars  are  governed,  nor  to  the 
strict  observance  of  sacred  rites. ^    It  is  used  unquestionably 

'  "  Chips  from  a  German  Workshop,"  Max  Miiller,  vol.  i.  pp.  41,  42. 

-  There  are  several  words  expressing  the  idea  of  law.  Vritra,  from  rt, 
that  which  is  joined,  fitted,  fixed,  is  the  essential  word.  Max  Miiller  is 
wrong  when  he  assigns  as  the  origin  of  this  notion  of  law,  the  spectacle 
of  the  regularity  of  natural  law.  ("Origin  and  Growth  of  Religion," 
Lecture  v.,  p.  239.)     The  idea  of  responsibility  so  closely  connected  with 


THE  RELIGION  OF  THE   VEDAS.  if 


in  a  moral  sense  in  several  significant  passages,  as  fo: 
instance,  that  in  which  it  is  said  that  Varuna  and  Mitr; 
are  faithful  to  the  law  in  keeping  an  eye  on  the  deception: 
practised  by  men,  and  in  justly  punishing  every  violatoi 
of  truth  and  honour.^ 

But  strict  justice  does  not  exhaust  our  duty  to  oui 
neighbour ;  there  are  also  services  of  love  incumbent  op 
us.  "  He  who  does  not  give  food-  to  the  hungry  ant 
drink  to  him  whose  tongue  is  parched  for  thirst,  he  who 
hardens  his  heart  against  him  who  intreats  of  him,  shall 
himself  find  none  to  take  pity  on  him.  He  only  has  true 
enjoyment  who  shares  with  the  poor  and  gives  to  him 
that  needeth.  It  shall  be  so  done  to  him  when  he  sues  for 
help,  and  he  makes  himself  a  friend  for  the  future.  In 
vain  does  the  fool  provide  himself  with  food  ;  I  speak  the 
truth,  it  shall  only  be  his  death.  No  friend  has  he  and  nc 
companion  ;  want  comes  to  him  who  only  seeks  his  own."'- 
The  evil  which  men  do  to  themselves,  as  in  gambling,  i< 
as  severely  reprobated.^  The  man  who  is  faithful  to  the 
law  is  contrasted  with  the  deceiver,  "  By  keeping  to  yout 
path  of  life,"  says  the  worshippei-  to  Varuna  and  Mitra 
"we  pass  safely  through  danger  as  through  the  sea  or 
ships."  *  This  is  a  great  advance  beyond  the  simple  law 
of  nature,  the  law  of  fatalism  sustained  by  force. 

The  clearest  indication  how  far  this  law  of  fatalism 
is  left  behind,  is  to  be  found  in  the  deep  sense  of  sin  ex- 
pressed in  many  penitential  hymns.  These  would  be 
utterly  unmeaning  if  man  did  not  feel  his  own  responsibihty. 
The  moral  idea  conveyed  in  these  ardent  prayers  is  both 
lofty  and  pure.  The  Asuras,  Varuna  and  Mitra,  are  looked 
upon  as  the  guardians  and  avengers  of  the  violated  law. 
They  take  cognisance  of  all  and  do  not  pass  by  any 
misdeeds.  The  sun  is  their  spy  ;  he  is  as  it  were  their 
great    all-seeing    eye.       Agni    often    performs    the    same 


the  moral  law  is  not  derived  from  the  spectacle  of  nature,  which  gives 
onlj'  the  notion  of  regularitj^  fixity.  The  idea  of  responsibility  must 
spring  from  the  depths  of  the  conscience,  else  we  derive  the  greater 
from  the  less. 

'  Rig  Veda,  ii.  27,  4.  '  Ibid.,  vii.  86,  6. 

^  Ibid.,  X.  117.  *  Ibid.   vii.  65,  3. 

12 


178    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

part.  He  is  called  "  the  eye  of  the  great  law."^  "Why 
dost  thou  accuse  us  to  Varuna,  O  Agni  ?  What  is  our 
sin?  "2 

Sin  committed  is  punished  by  these  great  gods.  Their 
hand  binds  the  guilty  with  heavy  fetters  which  they  alone 
can  loose,  and  which  represent  the  various  punishments 
inflicted.  The  offender  is  likened  to  a  thief  loaded  with 
chains,  or  to  a  calf  bound  with  a  cord.  Sometimes  the 
sin  itself  is  regarded  as  an  accursed  chain,  from  which  the 
suppliant  prays  to  be  loosed.  "  Take  from  me  my  sin 
like  a  fetter,  O  Varuna."  ^ 

Sin  is  not  only  failure  in  the  performance  of  the  law  of 
sacrifice  and  ritual,  it  has  its  seat  in  the  heart.  It  is  the 
intention  which  lends  gravity  to  the  fault.  "  It  was  not 
our  own  doing,  O  Varuna,  it  was  necessity,  or  temptation, 
an  intoxicating  draught,  passion,  dice,  thoughtlessness."* 
The  Adityas  see  the  good  and  evil  in  the  heart  of  man, 
which  is  full  of  desires. 

Sin,  of  whatever  sort,  is  a  debt  to  the  gods,  who  demand 
its  payment.®  The  Adityas,  the  heavenly  guardians  of  the 
great  world-all,  are  just  to  punish  guilt  and  to  obtain  the 
payment  of  all  debts.*'  There  is  a  close  solidarity  among 
mankind.  They  suffer  the  consequences  of  sin  committed 
by  their  forefathers.  "  Move  far  away  from  me  all  self- 
committed  guilt,  and  may  I  not,  O  king,  suffer  for  what 
O'thers  have  committed.  Many  dawns  have  not  yet 
dawned  ;  grant  us  to  live  in  them,   O  Varuna  ! " 

"Whether  it  be  my  companion  or  a  friend,  who,  while 
I  was  asleep  and  trembling,  uttered  fearful  spells  against 
me,  whether  it  be  a  thief  or  a  wolf  who  wishes  to  hurt  me, 
protect  us  against  them,  O  Varuna."  ^  The  solidarity  of 
the  race  in  sin  is  thus  expressed  with  as  much  clearness 
as  vigour. 

The  mere  fact  that  the  guilty  one  invokes  the  pardon  of 
his  god,  shows  that  he  believes  in  his  mercy,  which  indeed 
is  plainly  affirmed.  "  O  that  we  were  guiltless  before 
Varuna,    before    him  who    has  mercy   on    the  sinner!"^ 

*  Rig  Veda,  iv.  13;  x.  35,  S3.  »  Ibid.,  i.  87,  4. 

*  Ibid.,  V.  3,  5.  *  Ibid.,  ii.  27,  4. 

*  Ibid.,  ii.  28.  »  Ibid.,  ii.  28. 
Ibid.,  V.  6.                                                     »  Ibid,,  vii.  87,  7. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  THE    VEDAS.  179 


"Ye  gods,  lift  up  the  fallen  one,  and  him  who  has  com- 
mitted sin,  ye,  O  gods,  niaice  new  ag  lin."  ^ 

Varuna  is  indeed  not  simply  a  ju.it  god ;  he  is  also  a 
father  full  of  pity.  Thus  the  penitei  t  Ufts  to  him  plead- 
ing hands  and  a  sore  heart.  "  As  a  bird  shields  her 
young  with  her  wings,  so  he  extends  his  protection  to  his 
worshippers."  "  Come  near  to  me  to-day,  O  ye  gods,  for 
I  would  cast  myself  trembling  on  your  heart.  Save  us, 
that  the  wolf  may  not  devour  us,  and  that  we  fall  not  into 
his  lair."  2 

The  guilty  one  seeks  to  appease  Varuna.  This  he  tries 
to  do  first  by  hymns.  "To  propitiate  thee,  O  Varuna, 
we  unbend  thy  mind  with  songs,  as  tiie  charioteer  a  weary 
steed."  ^  But  his  chief  reliance  is  en  tears  and  prayers. 
These  he  says,  fly  up  to  the  god  "  as  birds  to  their 
nests."*  Sacrifice  is  no  longer  merely  the  food  of  the  gods. 
The  idea  of  atonement  is  added.  The  need  of  a  mediator 
is  expressed  in  the  following  hymn  :  "  O  Agni,  invoke 
Mitra,  Varuna,  Indra  for  the  faults  that  we  have  com- 
mitted ;  give  pardon  !  "  ^  "  Bring  near,  O  Agni,  the  gods 
who  work  in  love,  that  they  may  be  gracious  unto  us."° 
"  O  Agni,  procure  us  favour  with  Varuna  (with  the 
Maruts,  the  all-shining  ones)." 

"  For  kith  and  kin,  O  bright  and  gracious  Agni,  procure 
thou  deliverance.  Thou  who  knowest  how,  O  Agni,  turn 
away  from  us  the  anger  of  the  god,  of  Varuna.  Be  thou 
the  nearest  to  us,  O  Agni,  with  thy  lielp;  be  our  dearest 
riend  by  th  e  light  of  this  dawn.  Appease  Varuna  to- 
wards us ;  grant  us  to  find  favour  in  his  sight ;  be  thou 
ready  to  hear  our  cry  !  "  ^ 

Neither  sacrifice  nor  the  mediation  of  Agni  avails  to 
quiet  the  troubled  soul.  In  its  distress,  it  casts  itself  as 
it  were  into  the  arms  of  the  all-powerful  god  whom  it  calls 
father,  however  thick  the  veil  by  which  his  glorious  face 
is  still  hidden.  Then  there  rises  into  the  mysterious 
region,  one  of  the  most  pathetic  cries  chat  ever  proceeded 
from  the  conscience  of  man.      It  is  fii  it  of  all  a  confession 


RiS  Veda,  x.  137,  1.  ■*  Ibid.,  i.  25,  4. 

11; id.,  ii.  29.  ^  Ibid.,  vii.  03,  7. 

Ibid.,  i.  25,  3.  '■  Ibid.,  x.  150,  3. 

'  Ibid.,  iv.  I.     Sec  the  entire  hymn. 


i8o     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

of  sins,  of  those  of  which  the  man  is  himself  conscious, 
and  those  which  are  known  alone  to  the  All-Searcher, 
"  How  can  I  get  unto  Varuna?  Will  he  accept  my  offer- 
ing without  displeasure  ?  When  shall  I,  with  a  quiet 
mind,  see  him  propitiated  ?  I  ask,  O  Varuna,  wishing  to 
know  this  my  sin.  I  go  to  ask  the  wise.  The  sages  all 
tell  me  the  same.     Varuna  it  is  who  is  angry  with  thee. 

"  Was  it  an  old  sin,  O  Varuna,  that  thou  wishest  to 
destroy  thy  friend  who  always  praises  thee  ?  Tell  me, 
thou  unconquerable  lord,  and  I  will  quickly  turn  to  thee 
with  praise,  freed  from  sin.  Absolve  us  from  the  sins 
of  our  fathers,  and  from  those  which  are  committed  with 
cur  own  bodies Let  me  without  sin  give  satis- 
faction to  the  angry  god,  like  a  slave  to  the  bounteous 
lord.  The  lord  god  enlightened  the  foolish  ;  he,  the 
wisest,  leads  his  worshippers  to  wealth. 

"  O  lord  Varuna,  may  this  song  go  well  to  thy  heart ! 
May  we  prosper  in  keeping  and  acquiring !  Protect  us, 
O  gods,  always  with  your  blessings  ! "  ^ 

These  passionate  utterances  of  confused  desire  seem 
to  beat  against  the  bars,  and  at  length  burst  forth  into 
a  sublime  hymn  far  loftier  in  conception  than  the  purest 
ideals  of  the  national  religion.  It  rises  like  the  upsoaring 
of  a  caged  eagle  suddenly  set  free. 

"  Let  me  not  yet,  O  Varuna,  enter  into  the  house  of 
clay  ;  have  mercy,  almighty,  have  mercy ! 

"  If  I  go  along  trembling,  like  a  cloud  driven  by  the 
wind  ;  hjive  mercy,  almighty,  have  mercy  ! 

"Through  want  of  strength,  thou  strong  and  bright  god, 
have  I  gone  wrong ;  have  mercy,  almighty,  have  mercy  ! 

"Thirst  came  upon  the  worshipper,  though  he  stood  in 
the  midst  of  the  waters ;  have  mercy,  almighty,  have 
mercy  ! 

"  Whenever,  we  men,  O  Varuna,  commit  an  offence  before 
tlie  heavenly  host  ;  whenever  we  break  the  law  through 
thoughtlessness  ;  have  mercy,  almighty,  have  mercy  !  "  ^ 

How  was  it,  we  ask,  that  the  rehgious  consciousness 
of  the  Ar3'ans  of  India,  did  not  remain  at  this  high  level, 
but  quickly  fell  again  under  the  influence  of  the  pantheistic 
idea,  which    it    ultimately    pushed    to    its    extreme    con- 

'  Rig  Veda,  vii.  86.  "  Ibid.,  vii.  89. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  THE    VEDAS.  i8i 

sequences  ?  The  answer  is,  that  it  had  never  completely 
shaken  off  that  idea  even  in  the  glorious  period  when 
Varuna  reigned  supreme  in  the  pantheon.  We  have 
already  repeatedly  observed  that  in  the  Vedic  religion 
no  god,  however  great,  attained  to  an  unchallenged 
supremacy  in  the  theodicy,  and  as  he  was  never  able 
completely  to  displace  the  inferior  gods,  he  came  in  the 
end  to  share  their  lower  nature. 

Thus  the  great  enigma  of  evil  remained  unexplained, 
and  its  dark  shadow  fell  even  upon  the  shining  face 
of  the  sovereign  gods.  Varuna  presided,  as  we  have  seen, 
not  only  over  the  luminous,  but  over  the  sombre  side 
of  things.  If  he  was  the  source  of  good,  he  was  also 
the  dispenser  of  evil,  and  that  not  merely  as  chastisement. 
Was  it  possible  that  a  mind  so  philosophical  as  that  of 
the  Indian,  should  not  ask  of  the  gods  an  explanation  of 
evil  ?  In  the  end  it  charges  it  upon  them,  and  at  a  later 
period  the  Asuras  themselves  are  regarded  as  demoniacal 
powers.  We  thus  arrive  at  a  system  in  which  good  and 
evil  are  identified  as  only  different  manifestations  of 
one  principle,  both  equally  necessary  to  universal  being. 
Offended  conscience  does  indeed  lift  up  its  voice  against 
this  delusion,  but  it  is  stifled  by  the  predominance  of 
metaphysical  speculation,  which  silences  its  protests  and 
hurries  the  national  religion  down  the  fatal  incline,  at 
the  base  of  which  is  the  negation  of  the  gods,  of  man, 
in  a  word,  of  all  being.  This  vindication  of  conscience 
is  expressed  nevertheless  with  extraordinary  power,  and 
can  never  be  obliterated.  It  remains  a  standing  argument 
against  those  subtle  metaph3'^sics  of  the  East  and  West, 
which  sacrifice  the  moral  life  to  the  idol  of  pantheistic 
speculation. 

§  VII. — The  Close  of  the  Vedic  Religion.* 

As  we  approach  the  close  of  the  Vedic  era,  w^e  already 
discern  the  first  signs  of  the  .  coming  transformation  of 
its  brilliant  and  vivid  naturism  into  a  religion  at  once 
sacerdotal  and  metaphysical. 

'  Max  Mailer's  "  Lectures  on  the  Origin  and  Growth  of  R.eL'gion," 
Lectures  VI.,  VU. 


i82     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

In  the  first  place,  the  confusion  of  all  the  gods  in  a 
syncretism  which  utterly  deprives  them  of  individuality, 
becomes  more  and  more  marked  in  the  hymns  addressed 
to  the  most  personal  and  powerful  of  those  gods — 
Varuna. 

We  read  in  one  of  these  hymns,  "O  lord  of  my  prayer 
(Brihaspati),  whether  thou  be  Mitra  or  Varuna  or  Pushan, 
come  to  my  sacrifice  ! "  Agni,  really  the  god  of  fire,  is 
said  to  be  Indra  and  Vishnu,  Savitri,  Pushan,  Rudra, 
and  Aditi ;  nay,  he  is  said  to  be  all  the  gods.^  This 
complex  and  confused  divinity  which,  from  a  metaphysical 
point  of  view,  takes  the  place  of  the  living  and  personal 
gods,  is  sometimes  identified  with  Time.  It  is  said  of 
Indra  that  he  was  born  of  Time,  A  yet  more  abstract 
notion  attributes  the  birth  of  the  gods  to  the  great 
mother  Aditya,  the  holy  one  who  produced  all  the  glorious, 
the  mighty,  the  sovereign  ones,  the  gods,  the  Asuras.^ 
Thus  instead  of  gods  sovereign  and  all  powerful,  we  have 
abstract  sovereignty,  the  unfathomable  infinite  ! 

Not  only  do  the  gods  lose  their  individuality  in  this 
dreary  absolute,  but  the  very  personality  of  man  is  absorbed 
also.  In  a  somewhat  obscure  hymn  relating  to  the  dead, 
the  spirit  of  the  deceased  is  represented  as  wandering 
through  earth  and  heaven,  in  the  sun,  on  high  mountains, 
in  all  created  life.  Nay  more,  it  has  been  in  some  obscure 
way  present  in  all  that  has  been,  and  shall  be  in  all  that 
is  to  be.^  We  are  thus  brought  back  again  to  the  hidden 
principle  of  being,  the  mysterious  One.  Thus  we  see  the 
form  of  the  god  who  lends  himself  most  readily  to  pan- 
theistic conceptions,  Brahmanaspati,  the  lord  of  spells 
and  of  prayer,  rising  ever  higher  in  the  Indian  pantheon, 
till  all  the  other  gods  are  lost  in  him. 

This  metaphysical  evolution  does  not  go  on  without 
a  painful  conflict  of  doubt,  which  assumes  at  first  the 
form  of  an  ever-recurring  question,  as  in  the  following 
hymn. 

"  In  the  beginning  there  arose  the  golden  child.  He 
was  the  one  born  lord  of  all  that  is.  He  established  the 
earth  and  this  sky.  Who  is  the  god  to  whom  we  shall 
offer  our  sacrifice  ? 

'  Rig  Veda   v.  3.  -'  Ibid.,  viii.  23.  *  Ibid.,  ix.  58. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  THE    VEDAS.  183 

"  He  who  gives  life,  he  who  gives  strength ;  whose 
command  all  the  bright  gods  revere;  whose  shadow  is 
immortality,  whose  shadow  is  death.  Who  is  the  god 
to  whom  we  shall  offer  our  sacrifice  ?  He  who  through 
his  power  is  the  one  king  of  the  breathing  and  awaken- 
ing world.  He  who  governs  all,  man  and  beasf ;  who  is 
the  god  to  whom  we  shall  offer  our  sacrifice  ? 

"  He  whose  greatness  these  snowy  mountains,  whose 
greatness  the  sun  proclaims,  with  the  distant  river — 
he  whose  regions  are,  as  it  were,  his  two  arms ;  who 
is  the  god  to  whom  we  shall  offer  our  sacrifice  ? 

"  He  through  whom  the  sky  is  bright  and  the  earth 
firm,  he  through  whom  the  heaven  was  stablished — nay 
the  highest  heaven — he  who  measured  out  the  light  in 
the  air ;  who  is  the  god  to  whom  we  shall  offer  our 
sacrifice  ? 

"  He  to  whom  heaven  and  earth  standing  firm  by  his 
word,  look  up,  trembling  inwardly — he  over  whom  the 
rising  sun  shines  forth ;  who  is  the  god  to  whom  we 
shall  offer  our  sacrifice  ? 

"  Wherever  the  mighty  water-clouds  went ;  where  they 
placed  the  seed  and  lit  the  fire,  thence  arose  he  who  is 
the  sole  life  of  the  bright  gods ;  who  is  the  god  to 
whom  we  shall  offer  our  sacrifice  ? 

"  He  who  by  his  might  looked  even  over  the  water  clouds, 
the  clouds  which  gave  strength  and  lit  the  sacrifice,  he 
who  alone  is  god  above  all  gods ;  who  is  the  god  to  whom 
we  shall  offer  our  sacrifice  ? 

"  May  he  not  destroy  us,  he  the  creator  of  the  earth ; 
or  he,  the  righteous,  who  created  the  heaven ;  he  also 
created  the  bright  and  mighty  waters;  who  is  the  god  to 
whom  we  shall  offer  our  sacrifice  ? 

"  O  Prajapati,  no  other  than  thou  hast  embraced  al! 
these  created  things."  ^ 

Prajapati,  which  in  the  popular  language,  is  only  another 
name  for  the  sun,  is  evidently  in  this  hymn  something 
higher  than  the  idea  of  deity  current  in  the  Vedas. 
The  very  repetition  of  the  question  implies  a  doubt.  This 
doubt  sometimes  extends  to  the  greatest  gods  of  the  Vedic 
pantheon,  as  in  this  exclamation  : 

'  Rig  Veda  x.  I2I. 


i84     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

"  If  you  wish  for  strength,  offer  to  Indra  a  hymn  of 
praise ;  a  true  hymn  if  Indra  truly  exist  :  for  some  one 
says  Indra  does  not  exist.  Who  has  seen  him  ?  Whom 
shall  we  praise  ?  "  -^ 

"  Darkness  is  around  us,  we  speak  not  knowing  what 
we  say,"  ^  we  read  again.  Or  once  more  the  poet  laments 
thus:  "My  ears  vanish,  my  eyes  vanish,  and  the  light 
also  which  dwells  in  my  heart ;  my  mind  with  its  far-off 
longing  leaves  me ;  what  shall  I  say  ?  what  shall  I 
think  ?  "  ^ 

This  doubt  mingled  v/ith  terror  springs  up  because  the 
shining  pinnacles  of  the  gods  of  light  have  vanished  be- 
fore the  mysterious  One,  who  is  the  essence  of  all  things. 
"They  speak,"  say  the  poets,  "of  Indra,  Mitra,  Varuna, 
Agni ;  that  which  is,  and  is  One,  the  poets  call  in  various 
ways."  "  Having  once  and  more  than  once  been  invoked 
as  the  life-bringer,  the  sun  is  also  called  the  breath  or 
Hfe  of  all  that  moves  and  rests ;  and  lastly  he  becomes 
Visvakarman,  by  whom  all  the  worlds  have  been  brought 
together,  and  Prajapati  which  means  lord  of  man  and  all 
living  creatures."  * 

Sometimes  he  seems  still  to  retain  some  semblance  of  a 
distinct  personality.  It  is  said  in  a  hymn  of  this  period, 
that  the  one  god,  whose  eyes  are  everywhere,  his  mouth 
everywhere,  his  arms  everywhere,  his  feet  everywhere, 
produced  the  earth  and  heaven.  "  Let  us  call  upon  him 
to-day  in  the  battle,  upon  the  Visvakarman,  the  maker 
of  all  things,  who  puts  courage  in  our  hearts.  May  he 
accept  our  offering  of  praise."  ° 

This  personality  however  soon  fades  away.  Already 
in  the  hymn  of  praise  just  quoted,  the  worshipper  asks  : 
"  O  sages,  search  and  know  what  was  the  standpoint,  the 
firm  ground,  from  which  he  the  Creator  of  All,  the  All 
seeing,  brought  forth  the  earth,  and  with  his  might  opened 
the   heaven?"''     Then  abandoning   this  empty  show  of 

*  Rig  Veda,  viii.  ico,  3. 
2  Ibid.,  X.  82,  7. 

*  Ibid.,  vi.  19,  6. 

*  "Origin  and  Growth  of  Religion,"  Max  Muller,  p.  267. 
'  Rig  Veda,  x.  81    9. 

*  Ibid.,  X.  81,  2. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  THE    VEDAS.  1S5 

adoration  cloaking  doubt,  the  Vedic  poet  at  length  ex- 
claims, speaking  of  the  great  One  :  "  Who  saw  him  wlicn 
he  was  first  born,  when  he  who  has  no  bones,  bore  him 
who  has  bones  ?  Where  was  the  breath,  the  blood,  the 
self  of  the  world  ?  Vv^ho  went  to  ask  this  from  any  that 
knew  it  ?  "  ^ 

In  another  hymn  we  read  :  "  Beyond  the  sky,  beyond 
the  earth,  beyond  the  Devas  and  Asuras,  what  was  the 
first  germ  which  the  waters  bore,  wherein  all  gods  were 
seen  ?  The  waters  bore  that  first  germ  in  which  all  the 
gods  came  together.  That  one  thing  in  which  all  crea- 
tures rested,  was  placed  in  the  lap  of  the  unborn." 

"You  will  never  know  him  who  created  these  things; 
something  else  stands  between  you  and  him.  Enveloped 
in  mist  and  with  faltering  voice,  the  poets  walk  along- 
rejoicing  in  life."^ 

In  the  famous  hymn  129  of  Book  x.  of  the  Rig  Veda, 
we  reach  the  last  term  of  abstraction.  We  give  Max 
M tiller's  metrical  translation  : 

"Nor  Aught  nor  Nought  existed  ;  yon  bright  sky 
Was  not,  nor  heaven's  broad  roof  outstretched  above. 
What  covered  all  ?  what  sheltered  ?  what  concealed  ? 
Was  it  the  waters  fathomless  abyss  ? 
There  was  not  death — yet  was  there  nought  immortal, 
There  was  no  confine  betwixt  day  and  night ; 
The  Only  One  breathed  breathless  by  itself, 
Other  than  It  there  nothing  since  has  been. 
Darkness  there  was,  and  all  at  first  was  veiled 
In  gloom  profound — an  ocean  w'ithout  light — 
The  germ  that  still  lay  covered  in  the  husk 
Burst  forth,  one  nature,  from  the  fervent  heat. 
Then  first  came  love  upon  it,  the  new  spring 
Of  mind — yet  poets  in  their  heart  discerned, 
Pondering,  this  bond  between  created  things 
And  uncreated.     Comes  this  spark  from  earth 
Piercing  and  all-pervading,  or  from  heaven? 
Then  seeds  were  sown  and  mighty  powers  arose. 
Nature  below,  and  power  and  will  above ; 
Who  knows  the  secret?  who  proclaimed  it  here? 
Whence,  whence  this  manifold  creation  sprang  ? 
The  gods  themselves  came  later  into  being — 
Who  knows  from  whence  this  great  creation  sprang  ? 

»  Rig  Veda,  i.    164,  4.  «  Ibid.,  x.  82. 


i86     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

He  from  vvhon   all  this  great  creation  came, 
Whether  his  v  11  created  or  was  mute, 
The  most  High  Seer  that  is  in  highest  heaven, 
He  knows  it — or  perchance  even  he  knows  not." ' 

We  must  not  su:  pose  that  the  reh'gious  sentiment  in 
its  popular  form  ws  i  steeped  in  these  transcendental  ab- 
stractions. The  Veiic  gods  were  living  realities  to  the 
greater  part  of  their  worshippers,  and  they  believed  that 
they  received  from  :hem»  protection,  pardon,  and  all  the 
good  gifts  of  this  lif  ^  It  is  none  the  less  true  that  the 
daring  thinkers  who  were  already  standing  on  the  dizzy 
verge  of  the  fathor  iless  abyss  of  the  mysterious  One, 
brought  out  forcibl;  the  contradiction  inherent  in  the 
religion  of  the  Vec  as,  and  prepared  the  way  for  the 
transition  through  Irahmanism  to  Buddhism. 

Many  sincerely  p^ous  souls  indeed,  who  did  not  rise 
to  the  chilling  heights  of  these  subtle  metaphysics,  were 
instinctively  conscious  of  the  inadequacy  of  their  beliefs, 
and  recognised  the  contradiction  to  which  we  have  just 
alluded.  Hence  the  touching  aspirations  expressed  in 
some  of  their  hymns,  after  the  perfect  light  and  happi- 
ness beyond  the  tomb.  We  find  this  prayer  addressed 
to  Soma : 

"Where  there  is  eternal  light  in  the  world,  where  the 
sun  is  placed,  in  that  immortal,  imperishable  world,  place 
me,  O  Soma.  Where  king  Vaivasata  reigns,  where  the 
secret  place  of  heaven  is,  where  these  mighty  waters  are, 
there  make  me  immortal ! 

"Where  life  is  free,  in  the  third  heaven  of  heavens, 
where  the  worlds  are  radiant,  there  make  me  immortal ! 

"  Where  wishes  and  desires  are,  where  the  bowl  of  the 
bright  Soma  is,  where  there  is  food  and  rejoicing,  there 
make  me  immortal ! 

"  Where  there  is  happiness  and  delight,  where  joy  and 
pleasure  reside,  where  the  desires  of  our  desire  are  attained, 
there  make  me  immortal."  ^ 

"  Who  knows  the  truth  ? "  we  read  in  another  hym.n. 
"  Who  can  show  us  the  path  that  leads  to  the  gods  ?     We 

'  Rig  Veda,  x.   129.     Translation  from  Lecture  by  Max  Miiller  on  the 
Veda  and  Zend-Avesta. 
*  Rig  Veda,  ix.  113,  7. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  THE    VEDAS.  187 

see  but  their  lower  seat.  Their  ways  are  far  above  and 
hidden  from  our  sight, "^ 

We  find  a  still  more  beautiful  and  touching  expression 
of  this  deep  sense  of  dissatisfaction  oppressing  the  heart 
of  the  worshipper  of  the  Vedic  gods,  in  one  strophe  of 
the  beautiful  hymn  to  Varuna  already  quoted  by  us : 
"  Thirst  came  upon  the  worshipper,  though  he  stood  in 
the  midst  of  the  waters."  ^  As  he  stood  thus  by  the 
springing  fountains  of  his  religion,  the  son  of  Vedic  India 
felt  the  burning  thirst  of  his  soul  unassuaged. 

This  is  more  conclusive  evidence  than  any  mere  argu- 
ment, of  the  paradoxical  and  powerless  nature  of  this 
religion.     The  soul  in  its  despair,  exclaims  : — 

"  Which  of  all  these  gods  will  hear  our  cry  and  be 
favourable  unto  us  ?  Who  will  come  down  and  deliver 
us  ?  "  3 


'  Rig 


ig  Veda,  iii.  54,  5.  '  Ibid.,  vii.  89,  4.  '  Ibid.,  x.  64,  I. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

TRANSFORMATION  OF  THE  RELIGION  OF  THE  VEDAS 
AFTER  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  THE  VEDIC  ARYANS 
ON   THE  BANKS  OF  THE   GANGES.' 

§   I. — Growth  of  Brahmanism. 

THE  Aryans  underwent  both  a  social  and  religious 
transformation  when  they  settled  on  the  shores  of 
the  Ganges.  Their  constitution  became  strictly  monarchical 
and  hierarchical,  the  priesthood  forming  the  keystone  of  the 
arch.  Its  tendency  was  always  in  this  direction  ;  but,  as 
we  have  seen,  the  priest  was  at  first  rather  a  divine  singer 
than  a  sacrificer.  The  father  of  the  family  was  the  priest 
in  his  own  house,  but  those  who  were  invested  with  the 
sacerdotal  office  had,  even  in  these  early  times,  a  great 
influence.  The  priestly  families  were  distinguished  by 
a  particular  mode  of  dressing  the  hair.  The  priests 
occupied  a  place  of  honour  side  by  side  with  those  petty 
princes  or  chiefs  of  the  clan,  whose  position  had  a  certain 
amount  of  dignity  attaching  to  it,  since  the  gods  whom 
they  represented,  were  supposed  to  have  chariots  drawn 
by  magnificently  caparisoned  horses,  vast  palaces,  and 
a  great  seraglio.  The  life  of  priests  and  princes  was, 
nevertheless,  still  agricultural ;  their  wealth  consisted  in 
the  possession  of  large  flocks.  They  had  not  yet  begun 
to  seek  perfection  in  asceticism. 

We  have  no  data  as  to  the  time  when  these  Aryans 
arrived  on  the  banks  of  the  Ganges,  and  after  prolonged 
fightings,  established  themselves  in  the  fertile  lands 
watered  by  the  river.  The  different  clans  of  the  con- 
querors disputed  among  themselves  for  their  possession, 

'  See  Dunker,  "  Geschichte  des  Alterthums,"  vol.  iii. 


BRAHMANISM.  189 


and  the  old  inhabitants  were  reduced  to  slavery.  In 
process  of  time,  distinct  nations  and  great  states  took  the 
place  of  the  clans.  This  period  of  conquest  was  no  doubt 
prolonged  through  centuries.  The  great  epic  poems  give 
no  precise  information  as  to  what  took  place.  They 
simply  preserve  the  memory  of  wars  of  conquest.  We 
are  now  brought  into  contact  with  powerful  monarchies 
and  with  a  hierarchy  consisting  of  four  great  classes. 
1st,  The  Brahmans  ;  2nd,  The  warriors;  3rd,  The 
husbandmen ;  4th,  the  Sudras.  These  Sudras  are  the 
old  inhabitants,  vanquished  and  reduced  to  slavery. 

This  system  of  caste  is  an  entirely  new  feature.  In 
the  Vedic  times,  there  was  no  marked  and  absolute  dis- 
tinction among  the  various  classes  of  the  nation.  The 
conquered  aborigines  were  simply  devoted  to  contempt 
as  ddsyas  or  enemies.  One  solitary  verse  is  quoted  from 
the  Vedas,  in  which  it  is  said  that  the  priest,  the  warrior, 
the  husbandman,  and  the  serf,  all  alike  formed  part  of 
Brahma.^  "When  they  divided  man,  how  many  did  they 
make  him  ?  What  was  his  mouth  ?  what  his  arm  ? 
what  are  called  his  thighs  and  feet  ?  The  Brahmana 
was  his  mouth,  the  Rayanya  was  made  his  arms,  the 
Vaisya  became  his  thighs,  the  Sudra  was  born  from'- his 
feet."  2 

European  critics  are  able  to  show  that  even  this  verse 
is  of  later  origin  than  the  great  mass  of  the  hymns, 
and  that  it  contains  modern  words,  such  as  Sudra  and 
Rayanya,  which  are  not  found  again  in  the  other  hymns  of 
the  Rig  Veda,  and  belong  to  a  later  period.  Then  again, 
there  is  no  trace  of  a  constituted  hierarchy  in  the  times 
of  the  Vedas.  The  text  quoted  is  simply  a  pantheistic 
formula.  The  distinction  of  castes  was  the  peculiar  work 
of  the  Brahmans,  when  they  had  acquired  more  power. 
This  new  charter  is  thus  formulated  in  the  Brahmanas. 
"  Aryas  are  only  the  Brahmans,  Kshatriyas,  and  Vaisyas, 
for  they  are  admitted  to  the  sacrifices.  They  shall  not 
speak  with  everybody,  but  only  with  the  Brahman,  the 
Kshatriya  and  the  Vaisya.  If  they  have  occasion  to 
converse    with  a  Sudra,  let    them  say   to   another   man, 

^  Rig  Veda,  x.  90,  6,  7. 

*•  "Chips  from  aGerman  Workshop,"  Max  Miiller,  vol.  ii.,  Caste,  p.  312 


1 90    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

'  Tell  this  Sudra  so.' "  ^  We  thus  get  a  privileged  race 
comprising  all  the  Aryans  who  are  subdivided  into  three 
holy  castes ;  but  as  the  distinctive  sign  of  the  noble  class 
is  admission  to  the  sacrifices,  this  is  the  presiding  caste 
to  which  belongs  the  moral  supremacy.  The  Brahmans 
even  go  so  far  as  to  give  themselves  the  name  of  gods. 

The  change  of  climate,  the  first  consequence  of  which 
was  an  entire  change  in  the  manner  of  living,  had  a  great 
influence  in  the  transformation  of  the  religious  ideas. 
Little  by  little  the  brilliant  life  of  the  early  Aryans  grew 
dull  and  torpid  under  the  burning  sky.  Thus  the  old 
gods  who  carried  on  so  desperate  a  struggle  in  the  clouds 
and  upon  the  earth,  began  to  lose  their  importance,  while 
the  god  of  prayer  was  more  and  more  in  the  ascendant. 
The  priesthood  devised  a  veritable  apotheosis  for  him. 
Brahma,  who  under  the  name  of  Brahmanaspati,  had 
already  begun  to  rise  in  the  old  Vedic  pantheon,  came 
at  length  to  fill  the  foremost  place  in  it,  and  to  reign 
with  undivided  sway.  He  became  the  highest  impersona- 
tion of  the  divine  in  all  its  aspects.  Indra  could  not  be 
the  favourite  god  of  the  priests,  for  he  was  the  type  of 
the  warriors,  the  very  god  of  battles.  He  then,  with  all 
his  impetuous  comrades  in  fight,  must  descend  to  the 
second  rank.  As  to  Varuna,  not  only  did  he  lose  his 
supremacy,  but  he  came  at  last  to  personify  with  all  the 
Adityas  or  Asuras,  if  not  the  element  of  evil,  at  least 
that  of  calamity.  The  Asuras  became  more  and  more 
identified  with  the  demons. 

This  strange  transformation  is  very  naturally  explained. 
We  have  seen  that  Varuna,  as  well  as  the  other  Asuras 
or  Adityas,  allotted  by  turns  happiness  and  suffering.  He 
was  the  god  who  bound  and  loosed,  who  made  night  and 
day,  because  he  governed  all  things,  and  was  raised 
entirely  above  the  dualistic  element.  During  the  time  of 
his  supremacy,  the  sorrows  of  which  he  was  the  dispenser, 
were  the  ministers  of  justice,  of  righteous  indignation,  and 
were  designed  to  call  men  to  repentance.  But  as  soon  as 
he  became  a  secondary  god,  only  one  among  others,  this 
element  of  misfortune  was  attributed  to  his  perversity,  and 
thus   from   the  summit  of  sanctity  he  was  flung  down, 

'  "Chips  from  a  German  Workshop,"  Max  MuUer,  vol.  ii..  Caste,  p.  336. 


BRAHAIANISM.  191 


in  the  Brahmanic  era,  to  the  infernal  regions  where  the 
demons  reign.  It  is  true  that  their  maleficent  power  is 
not  of  much  account,  inasmuch  as  all  separate  contin- 
gent life  tends  more  and  more  to  be  lost  in  the  divine 
unity. 

The  religious  reformation  was  effected  by  the  Brahmans 
by  slow  degrees.  There  was  no  loud  proclamation  of  a 
new  doctrine  provoking  schism  and  strife.  The  Brahmans 
never  ceased  to  profess  the  most  profound  respect  for 
the  religion  of  their  fathers  and  for  the  sacred  hymns 
in  which  it  was  embodied.  They  were  never  weary  of 
extolling  the  Vedas.  Only  as  the  language  in  which 
these  songs  had  been  written,  became  more  and  more  a 
dead  language,  their  authority  imposed  very  little  restraint 
upon  them,  and  they  could  introduce  what  innovations 
they  chose  both  in  ritual  and  doctrine.  Moreover,  these 
innovators  had  none  of  the  grand  poetic  diction  of  the 
singers  of  the  Indian  Aryas.  The  live  coal  had  never 
touched  their  lips.  There  was  between  them  and  the 
Vedic  poets,  the  same  difference  as  between  the  prophets 
and  doctors  of  the  law  in  Israel.  "  The  great  and  only 
business  now  is  to  know  the  Brahmanas,  that  is  to  say,  the 
sacred  texts,  their  use  and  the  secret  exegesis  of  them  as 
handed  down  by  tradition  ;  to  know  the  rites  of  religion 
with  their  hidden  and  mystic  meanings."  ^  Great  privileges 
are  always  promised  to  him  who  knows,  for  the  gods  love 
the  man  who  fathoms  the  unfathomable.  The  Brahmans 
were  the  scribes  of  the  Indian  religion. 

After  elaborating  subtle  interpretations  by  which  they 
in  reality  changed  altogether  the  character  of  the  ancient 
religion,  they  began  by  remodelling  the  worship,  renderirg 
it  more  and  more  complicated,  and  proportionately  exalting 
the  functions  of  the  priest.  The  Vedas,  by  assimilating 
the  earthly  to  the  heavenly  sacrifice,  had  already  given 
great  importance  to  ritual,  but  this  importance  was  in- 
definitely magnified  in  the  cultus  of  the  Brahmans.  In 
this  way  the  gods  of  pra3'er  came  to  be  exalted  over  the 
Asuras.  "  Certain  insignificant  ceremonial  arrangements 
are  the  reasons  why  the  sun  rises  in  the  east  and  sets 
in  the  opposite  quarter,  why  rivers  flow  in   one  direction 

'  Earth,  "The  Religions  cf  Ii.dia,"  p.  44. 


192     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

rather  than  another,  why  the  prevailing  wind  blows  from 
the  north-west,  and  why  harvests  ripen  earlier  in  the 
south."  ^  The  lightest  ceremonial  error  entails  disastrous 
consequences.  Legal  purity  and  adherence  to  ritual  are 
put  upon  the  same  level  as  obedience  to  the  lavv.  The 
Brahmanical  cultus  is  minutely  described  in  the  Brah- 
manas  and  Sutras,  which  are  a  sort  of  liturgical  manual. 
"We  shall  try  to  bring  out  from  this  complicated  maze 
of  ritual,  the  distinctive  traits  of  worship.  There  were 
no  sanctuaries  properly  so  called.  The  holiness  of  the 
Brahman  was  such  that  it  sufficed  to  consecrate  any  place 
in  which  worship  was  celebrated,  so  that  it  v.'as  not 
needful  to  have  a  place  set  apart.  Holy  men  did  instead 
of  holy  places.  The  absence  of  temples  prevented  any- 
thing like  regularity  in  the  public  worship.  "  Brah- 
manism  knows  no  public  cultus  ;  each  of  its  acts,  as  a 
general  rule,  has  a  purely  individual  reference,  and  is 
performed  for  the  behoof  of  one  Yajamana,  that  is  to  say, 
of  a  person  who  defrays  the  expense  of  it.  With  the 
Yajamana  there  is  strictly  associated  only  his  wife,  or  the 
first  of  his  wives,  if  he  has  several  (the  wife  having  no 
rights  of  worship  of  her  own) ;  and  it  is  only  indirectly, 
by  means  of  certain  attendant  variations,  that  the  benefit 
of  the  rite  is  extended  to  the  rest  of  his  family,  to  the 
people  of  his  household,  or  the  body  of  his  dependents."  ^ 
The  domestic  ritual  embraces  the  entire  life  of  a  Brahman. 
It  includes  the  sacramental  rites  accompanying  the  birth 
of  a  child  ;  his  initiation,  which  is  a  second  birth  ;  then  all 
the  purifications  of  the  private  life,  by  which  every  act  of 
it  is  sanctified,  and  lastly  the  funeral  ceremonies.  There 
are  other  rites  to  be  observed  by  the  Brahman,  who 
having  reached  old  age,  retires  into  solitude  and  lives  as  a 
hermit.  Codes,  such  as  the  Laws  of  Manu,  give  an 
epitome  of  this  ritual,  adding  to  it  certain  moral  injunc- 
tions. The  part  of  the  ritual  connected  with  the  sacri- 
fices is  given  in  fullest  detail.  The  offering  of  the  Soma, 
which  sometimes  involves  costly  solemnities,  lasting  over 
several  days,  is  always  placed  in  the  foremost  rank. 
Every  sacrifice  is  accompanied  by  a  round  of  more  com- 

*  Barth,    'The  Religions  of  India,"  p.  48.  ^  Ibid.,  pp.  50 — 52. 


BRAHAIANISM.  193 


plicated  observances,  and  generally  animal  victims  are 
required.  The  herds  are  decimated  to  supply  them. 
There  are  even  traces  in  the  ritual,  of  human  sacrifices  ; 
but  these  are  only  the  exception,  a  strange  survival,  it 
would  seem,  of  primitive  barbarism.  The  most  august  of 
the  sacrifices  of  blood  is  always  that  of  the  horse.^ 

§  II. — The  Speculative  Evolution  of  Brahmanism. 

All  these  new  modes  of  worship  tended,  as  we  have 
observed,  to  exalt  the  priests  and  their  god  Brahman- 
aspati.  It  was  necessary  indeed  to  justify  his  supremacy 
by  a  religious  conception  in  which  he  should  occupy  the 
foremost  place.  It  was  easy  to  attach  such  a  conception 
to  the  speculative  portion  of  the  Vedas,  which  celebrated 
in  their  later  hymns,  the  ineffable  and  mysterious  One. 
This  One  now  became  the  central  figure  in  the  theo- 
gony,  whereas  he  had  hitherto  been  scarcely  more  than 
a  vague  suggestion,  thrown  altogether  into  the  shade 
by  the  figures  of  the  living  gods  of  light,  to  whom  the 
mass  of  the  people  clung.  It  required  indeed  much 
patient  and  skilful  effort  to  bring  this  metaphysical  crea- 
tion into  the  foreground,  and  to  substitute  for  the  purple 
cloud-chariots  of  the  great  gods,  a  cold  and  formless 
Divine  abstraction.  We  shall  see  the  Brahmans  setting 
themselves  with  philosophical  determination  to  achieve 
this  result,  but  we  repeat,  they  were  but  prolonging 
the  lines  already  traced  by  the  Vedic  poets  in  making 
Brahmanaspati  (now  changed  into  Brahma)  the  symbol 
of  the  Divine  unity  reduced  to  the  most  complete  ab- 
straction. 

It  was  by  laying  hold  of  one  of  the  most  daring  con- 
ceptions in  the  famous  Hymn  129,  Book  X.  of  the  Rig 
Veda,  that  the  Brahmans  succeeded  in  making  Brahma  the 
first  manifestation  of  the  absolute.  In  that  hymn  it  was 
said  of  the  hidden  principle  of  things  : 

"  The  Only  One  breathed  breathless  by  it." 
This  breath,  which  is  distinguished  from  the  wind — that 

'  Barth,  "The  Religions  of  India,"  pp.  54—58. 

13 


194    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

is  to  say,  from  any  natural  force — is  only  that  which  is 
called  in  another  Vedic  hymn  the  Divine  Atman,  the 
Semet  ipsuju,  the  hidden  principle  of  the  Ego  and  of  all 
that  is.  This  spirit,  which  breathed  forth  the  soul  of 
the  universe,  this  mysterious  Atman,  is  contounded  with 
Brahma,  from  whom  all  beings  proceed.  The  further 
finite  life  is  removed  from  this  first  principle,  the  more 
it  loses  of  dignity.  Thus  the  ladder  of  the  universal 
hierarchy  is  set  up  between  the  gods  and  men,  who  are 
divided  into  four  castes  :  the  Brahmans,  whose  office  is 
prayer ;  the  military  class,  who  defend  the  soil  ;  the  hus- 
bandmen, who  till  it ;  and  the  Sudras,  objects  of  aversion 
and  contempt,  who  are  doomed  to  slavery.  The  ideas 
of  a  future  life  underwent  an  important  change  in  this 
new  theodicy.  The  final  judgment,  dividing  the  good 
from  the  wicked,  and  relegating  the  one  to  the  abode  of 
darkness,  while  the  other  entered  the  paradise  of  Yama, 
no  longer  seemed  sufficient.  The  hierarchical  scale  is 
reproduced  in  the  penalties  of  the  future  life.  After  a 
first  judgment,  the  guilty  descend  again  by  successive 
metempsychoses,  all  the  grades  of  being,  only  at  once  to 
recommence  the  ascent ;  while  the  good  and  pious  rise 
gradually  into  the  absolute,  starting  from  the  point  to 
which  their  virtue  had  raised  them.  The  final  term  for 
them  is  absorption  in  Brahma. 

The  Brahmans  have  left  some  confused  attempts  at 
a  cosmogony.  At  one  time  they  refer  the  origin  of  things 
to  "  a  first  being  conceived  as  a  person,  Prajapati,  who, 
tired  of  his  solitude,  emits  " — that  is  to  say,  draws  forth — 
from  himself  everything  that  exists,  or  who  begets  it  after 
having  divided  himself  in  two,  the  one  half  male,  the 
other  female.  At  another  time  this  first  personal  and 
creative  being  is  represented  as  himself  proceeding  from 
a  material  substratum  :  in  the  mythic  form  he  is  Hiran- 
yagarbba,  "  the  golden  embryo,"  Ndrdyana,  "  he  who 
reposes  on  the  waters,"  and  ViraJ,  "  the  resplendent,  who 
issued  from  the  world-egg."  Besides  these  two  solutions, 
there  is  still  a  third.  Instead  of  organising  itself  under 
the  direction  of  a  conscious,  intelligent  being,  the  prin.ary 
substance  of  things  is  represented  as  manifesting  itself 
directly,  without  the  interposition  of  any  personal  agent, 


BRA  HMA  NISM.  1 95 


by  the  development  of  the  material  world  and  contingent 
existences/ 

At  bottom  all  these  theosophies  seem  to  have  been 
traced  on  "  the  idea  that  the  principle  of  life  which  is  in 
man,  the  Atman,  or  self,  is  the  same  as  that  which  animates 
nature."  ^ 

This  favourite  thesis  of  the  Brahmans  has  been  treated 
in  all  sorts  of  ways  in  the  speculative  portion  of  their 
sacred  books,  and  primarily  in  the  Upanishads.^  We 
shall  give  some  examples  of  these  lucubrations,  the  gist 
of  which  is  always  the  glorification  of  Brahma. 

In  the  Chandogya-Upanishad,  Indra,  the  head  of  the 
Devas,  occupies  at  first  an  inferior  position.  He  asks 
Prajapati,  who  represents  the  supreme  Being,  wherein 
man's  true  self  consists.  Prajapati  says  to  him:  "The 
person  that  is  seen  in  the  eye,  that  is  the  self."  By  this 
person  he  means,  not  the  organ  of  vision  itself,  nor  the 
small  figure  imaged  in  the  eye,  but  the  real  agent  of 
seeing,  the  being  who  uses  not  only  the  senses,  but  also 
the  mind,  as  an  instrument.  The  seer  who  is  in  the  eye 
is  the  being  who  knows  that  he  knows,  and  that  the 
human  mind,  the  "eye  Divine,"  is  but  his  instrument. 
This  is  the  Atman,  the  self  in  man,  an  emanation  from 
the  great  Atman  who  is  the  principle  of  all  things.*  "  The 
Devas  who  are  in  the  world  of  Brahma  worship  that 
Self.  There  all  worlds  are  held  by  them,  and  all  pleasures. 
He  who  knows  that  Self  and  understands  it  obtains  all 
worlds  and  all  desires."^  Brahma,  who  is  confounded 
with  this  supreme  Atman,  is  thus  raised  above  all  the 
earlier  gods. 

In  a  dialogue  which  takes  place  between  Yagnavalkya 


'  Barth,  "The  Religions  of  India,"  pp.  68 — 70. 

*  Ibid.,  p.  71. 

*  In  the  Upanishads  this  doctrine  of  the  Atman  is  largely  expanded. 
Doubtless  the  curious  writings  collected  under  this  name  are  of  very 
various  dates,  but  the  most  important  belong  to  an  epoch  anterior  to 
Buddhism.  We  recognise  in  them  a  continuation  of  the  Brahmanic 
religion.  All  the  questions  relating  to  the  Upanishads  are  exhaustively 
treated  in  M.  Regaaud's  work  entitled  "  Materiaux  pour  servir  a  la 
philosophic  de  I'lnde." 

^  "Origin  and  Growth  of  Religion,"  Max  Miiller,  pp.  320—327. 
6  Ibid.,  p.  327. 


196    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

and  his  two  wives,  the  latter  ask  him  how  they  may 
attain  to  immortahty.  The  husband  rephes  that  that  which 
is  really  loved  in  all  beings  is  the  Atman,  the  Self.  He 
says :  "  Verily  a  husband  is  not  dear  that  you  may  love 
the  husband,  but  that  you  may  love  the  Self;  therefore 
a  husband  is  dear.  Verily  a  wife  is  not  dear  that  you  may 
love  the  wife,  but  that  you  may  love  the  Self;  therefore  a 
wife  is  dear.  Verily  the  Devas  are  not  dear  that  you  may 
love  the  Dev^as,  but  that  you  may  love  the  Self;  therefore 
the  Devas  are  dear,"  ^  and  so  on.  "When  there  is,  as  it 
were,  duality,  then  one  sees  the  other,  one  smells  the 
other,  one  hears  the  other,  one  salutes  the  other,  one 
perceives  the  other,  one  knows  the  other ;  but  when  the 
Self  only  is  all  this,  how  should  he  smell  another,  how 
should  he  see  another,  how  should  he  hear  another,  how 
should  he  salute  another,  how  should  he  perceive  another, 
and  how  should  he  know  another  ?  How  should  he 
know  him  by  whom  he  knows  all  this  ?  How,  O 
beloved,  should   he   know   (himself)   the  knower  ?  "  '^ 

A  variant  reading  adds  :  "  That  Self  is  to  be  described  by 
'  No,  no  ! '  He  is  incomprehensible,  for  he  is  not  com- 
prehended ;  free  from  decay,  for  he  does  not  decay ;  free 
from  contact,  for  he  is  not  touched  ;,unfettered  :  he  does 
not  tremble,  he  does  not  fail.  How,  O  beloved,  should  he 
know  the  knower  ?  Thus  thou  hast  been  instructed,  and 
thus  far  goes  immortality."  ^ 

The  Ratha-Upanishad  is  a  dialogue  between  a  young 
child  called  Nakiketas  and  Yama,  the  ruler  of  departed 
spirits.  Nakiketas  says :  "  There  is  that  doubt  when 
man  is  dead,  some  saying  that  he  is,  others  that  he  is 
not ;  then  I  should  like  to  know,  taught  by  thee."  Yama 
replies  :  "  The  future  never  rises  before  the  eyes  of  the 
careless  child,  deluded  by  the  delusion  of  wealth.  This  is 
the  world,  he  thinks ;  there  is  no  other ;  thus  he  falls 
again  and  again  under  my  sway. 

"  The  wise,  who,  by  means  of  meditating  on  his  Self, 
recognises  the  Old,  who  is  difficult  to  be  seen,  who  has 
entered  into   darkness,   who  is  hidden  in  the  cave,  whp 

'  "  Origin  and  Growth  of  Religion,"  pp.  328,  329. 

*  Ibid.,  p.  332. 

»  Ibid.,  p.  332,  note  II. 


BRAHAIANISM.  197 


dwells  in  the   abyss,   as   God,   he  indeed   leaves  joy  and 
sorrow  far  behind. 

"  That  Self  cannot  be  gained  by  the  Veda,  nor  by  under- 
standing, nor  by  much  learning.  He  whom  the  Self 
chooses,  by  him  alone  the  Self  can  be  gained.  The  Self 
chooses  him  as  his  own.  But  he  who  has  not  first  turned 
away  from  his  wickedness,  who  is  not  tranquil  and 
subdued,  whose  mind  is  not  at  rest,  he  can  never  obtain 
the  Self,  even  by  knowledge.  No  mortal  lives  by  the 
breath  that  goes  up  and  by  the  breath  that  goes  down. 
We  live  by  another,  in  whom  these  two  repose.  Well 
then,  I  shall  tell  thee  this  mystery,  the  Eternal  Brahma, 
and  what  happens  to  the  Self  after  reaching  death. 

"  Some  are  born  again,  as  living  beings ;  others  enter 
into  stocks  and  stones,  according  to  their  work  and 
according  to  their  knowledge.  But  he,  the  highest  person, 
who  wakes  in  us  while  we  are  asleep,  shaping  one  lovely 
sight  after  another,  he  indeed  is  called  the  Bright ;  he  is 
called  Brahma  ;  he  alone  is  called  the  Immortal.  All  worlds 
are  founded  on  it,  and  no  one  goes  beyond.     This  is  that. 

"  As  the  one  fire,  after  it  has  entered  the  world,  though 
one,  becomes  different  according  to  whatever  it  burns, 
thus  the  one  Self  within  all  things,  becomes  different 
according  to  whatever  it  enters,  and  exists  also  apart, 

"  As  the  sun,  the  eye  of  the  world,  is  not  contaminated 
by  the  external  impurities  seen  by  the  eye,  thus  the  one  Self 
within  all  things,  is  never  contaminated  by  the  suffering 
of  the  world,  being  himself  apart. 

"  There  is  one  eternal  thinker,  thinking  non-eternal 
thoughts ;  he,  though  one,  fulfils  the  desires  of  many. 
The  wise  who  perceive  him  within  their  Self,  to  them 
belongs  eternal  peace. 

"Whatever  there  is,  the  whole  world  when  gone  forth  " 
(from  Brahma)  "  trembles  in  his  breath.  That  Brahma  is 
a  great  terror,  like  a  drawn  sword.  Those  who  know  it 
become  immortal. 

"  He  "  (the  Brahma)  "  cannot  be  reached  by  speech,  by 
mind,  or  by  the  eye.  He  cannot  be  apprehended  except 
by  him  who  says  :  '  He  is.' 

"When  all  desires  that  dwell  in  the  heart  cease,  then 
the  mortal  becomes  immortal,  and  obtains  Brahma. 


198    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

"  When  all  the  fetters  of  the  heart  here  on  earth  are 
broken,  then  the  mortal  becomes  immortal.  Here  ends  my 
teaching."  ^ 

Speculations  like  these  made  it  easy  to  cast  off  the  yoke 
of  the  old  religion.  "  Know  the  Atman  only,  and  away 
with  everything  else;  it  alone  is  the  bridge  of  immor- 
tality," says  one  of  the  Upanishads. 

In  such  a  conception  of  the  cosmogony,  nature  is 
clearly  reduced  to  a  mere  illusion.  The  finite  world  no 
longer  exists.  "  It  is  the  production  of  the  Maya,  of  the 
deceptive  magic  of  the  god ;  a  mere  spectacle,  v/here  all 
is  illusion,  theatre,  actors,  and  piece  alike ;  a  '  play ' 
without  purpose  which  the  Absolute  plays  with  himself 
The  ineffable  and  the  inconceivable  is  the  only  real."  " 

The  most  extreme  asceticism  is  the  final  term  of  this 
evolution.  In  the  state  of  ecstasy  to  which  it  introduces 
all  consciousness  of  a  distinct  personality  is  lost.  The 
system  known  as  the  Yoga  is  a  sort  of  manual  of  mystic 
exercises,  to  throw  men  into  this  state  of  ecstasy,  border- 
ing on  madness. 

There  was  a  reaction  against  this  in  the  wild  idealism 
of  the  philosophy  of  the  Vedanta.  This  was  what  is  called 
the  Sankhya  philosophy,  of  which  Kapila  was  the  author. 
In  this  the  claims  of  reason  are  strongly  affirmed.  The 
Sankhya  teaches  that  there  is  an  eternal  duality  of  soul 
and  matter.  Nature  is  eternal,  but  without  knowledge. 
The  soul  is  alike  eternal,  but  with  the  capacity  of  know- 
ing. All  the  phenomena  are  linked  in  a  sequence  of  cause 
and  effect,  and  proceed  from  their  two  principles—  soul  and 
matter.  Brute  matter  is  one  ;  the  essential  soul  is  divided ; 
it  is  the  compound  of  the  individual  souls  which  are  all 
equal,  eternal,  and  indestructible.  Each  soul  is  united  to 
the  subtle  corporeal  element,  with  which  it  enters  into 
successive  combinations.  The  aim  of  human  life  is  to 
free  itself  from  the  body,  by  virtue  of  the  knowledge 
which  teaches  man  the  independence  of  the  soul  in  re- 
lation to  the  body,  for  the  bond  which  unites  them  is 
only  apparent.  The  soul  must  recognise  that  it  is  not 
nature.     As  he  comes  to  realise  the  complete  independ- 

•  "Origin  and  Growth  of  Religion,"  Max  Miiller,  pp.  333 — 337. 

*  Barth,  "  Religions  of  India,"  p.  75. 


BRAHMA  NISAf.  19, 


ence  of  the  soul,  man  is  set  free.  In  short,  nature,  vvhicl 
in  the  Vedanta  appeared  as  only  a  transitory  mode  of  the 
life  of  the  spirit,  becomes  again  a  reality  in  the  Sankhya. 
although  it  is  in  the  end  to  be  vanquished  by  the  soul. 
The  natural  tendency  of  the  Sankhya  was  to  materialism 
and  atheism.  The  disciples  of  Kapila  abandoned  in  the 
end  the  whole  Vedic  and  Brahmanic  mythology. 

Their  doctrine  is  represented  as  absolute  scepticism, 
and  their  morality  has  been  preserved  to  us  in  such 
couplets  as  these  :  "  So  long  as  life  lasts,  delight  thy- 
self and  live  well ;  when  once  the  body  is  reduced  to 
ashes,  it  will  revive  no  more."  The  logical  consequence 
of  all  this  speculative  movement  was  to  brand  as  use- 
less all  the  rites  of  worship,  and  of  necessity  the  priest- 
hood also. 

We  must  draw  a  distinction  between  this  and  official 
Brahmanism,  which  gave  equal  place  to  the  speculative 
and  the  practical.  Of  this  system  the  laws  of  Manu  are 
the  most  complete  expression.  They  represent,  so  to 
speak,  the  average  religious  conception  of  the  period. 

§   III. — The    Religious   Life  during  the   Brahmanicai 

Period. 

The  Laws  of  Manu} 

Whether  the  laws  of  Manu  date  from  a  period  more 
or  less  remote  from  the  Christian  era,  they  are  in  any 
case  a  perfectly  authentic  monument  of  the  life  of  the 
period  when  Brahmanism  had  become  the  predominant 
religion  of  the  people.  We  have  thus  a  true  repre- 
sentation of  the  religious  life  as  it  was  for  many  cen- 
turies, and  as  it  still  is  in  India,  for  nothing  can  equal 


'  The  Indians  have  possessed  numerous  codes  of  laws  described  as 
holy.  We  shall  speak  only  of  the  laws  of  Manu,  which  are  the  most  im- 
portant of  these  codes.  Dunker  fixes  their  date  as  before  600  e.g.,  on  the 
following  grounds  :  I.  These  laws  belong  to  a  time  when  the  Aryans  had 
not  yet  settled  on  the  coasts  of  Dacca,  and  this  settlement  took  place  about 
600  B.C.  2.  Buddhism  was  in  existence  five  centuries  before  Christ, 
and  it  is  certain  that  it  was  a  reaction  against  Brahmanism  as  con- 
stituted by  the  laws  of  Manu.  3.  The  laws  of  Manu  recognise  only 
the  first  three  books  of  the  Vedas,  and   ignore  the  fourth,    while   the 


.200    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

the   immobility  of  these  gentle,  dreamy  races,  so  rarely 
stirred  to  action. 

In  the  first  place,  we  find  in  the  laws  of  Manu  the 
result  of  the  speculation  of  the  Vedanta,  without  the 
elements  which  made  that  system  rather  adverse  than 
favourable  to  a  sacerdotal  religion  encumbered  with  ritual. 
Religion  is  placed  on  the  footing  which  shall  be  most 
to  the  advantage  of  the  god  of  the  priests  and  of  the 
priests  themselves.  In  its  cosmogony  the  Vedic  Pantheon 
is  passed  over  in  silence  rather  than  contradicted.  The 
doctrine  of  the  ineffable  unity  in  which  Brahma  is  swal- 
lowed up,  is  formulated  in  a  popular  and  almost  mythical 
fashion.  In  substance  it  is  as  follows  :  The  world  was 
plunged  in  utter  darkness,  and  deprived  of  attributes. 
The  Lord,  existing  by  himself  apart  from  the  external 
senses,  appeared,  and  made  the  world  perceptible,  with  its 
five  elements. -^  He  whom  the  spirit  alone  can  perceive, 
the  soul  of  all  beings,  displayed  his  glory.  Having  pro- 
duced the  waters,  he  deposited  a  germ  in  them.  This 
became  an  egg,  luminous  like  himself.  The  supreme 
Being  was  born  from  it  under  the  form  of  Brahma,  the 
ancestor  of  all  that  live.^  The  two  parts  of  the  egg  form 
the  heaven  and  the  earth.  All  the  principles  of  the 
intellectual  life  proceed  from  the  supreme  soul.^  As  the 
multitude  of  gods  is  produced  by  Brahma,  he  is  at  once 
raised  above  them  all.  More  than  this,  the  manes,  the 
ancestors  of  the  Brahmans,  were  born  before  the  gods, 
and  are  themselves  gods.*  It  was  Manu,  their  own 
ancestor,  who  by  his  austerities  produced  the  gods.^     By 

Buddhist  Sutras  quote  four.  4.  There  is  no  trace  in  the  laws  of  Manu 
of  tl.e  worship  of  Civa,  mentioned  in  the  Siitras.  Now,  according  to  the 
testimoi  y  of  the  Greeks,  this  worship  was  flourishing  in  the  fourth 
century  B.C.  Vishnu  is  only  named  once,  and  that  in  a  part  of  the  book 
which  is  doubtful.  5.  The  names  of  the  kings  are  the  same  as  in 
tl  e  Vedas,  wliile  those  of  the  great  epopceias  are  wanting.  Much 
question  has  been  raised  about  this  remote  date  of  the  laws  of  Manu. 
They  are  often  referred  to  a  period  but  little  removed  from  the  Chris- 
tian era.  However  this  may  be,  the  substance  of  the  ideas  is  very 
ancient  and  quite  in  harmony  with  the  great  period  of  Brahmanism. 
'  "Laws  of  Manu,"  i.  6,  7- 

2  Ibid,,  i.  4—7. 

3  Ibid.,  i.  8—14. 
^  Ibid.,  iii.  201. 

*  Ibid.,  i.  33,  34. 


BRAHMANISM. 


alternating  periods  of  waking  and  repose,  the  supreme 
Being  makes  this  assemblage  of  moving  and  motionless 
beings  perpetually  die  and  live  again, ^  This  movement 
of  growth  and  dissolution  is  like  the  rotation  of  a  wheel. 
The  end  of  all  being  is  absorption  in  the  supreme  soul.^ 
A  scale  of  ever-diminishing  emanations  runs  through  the 
three  worlds,  the  highest,  the  middle,  and  the  lowest, 
which  are  all  subject  to  this  same  law  of  subdivision.^ 
Souls  undergo  transmigration  after  death  in  a  degree 
proportioned  to  their  guilt.  The  guilty  souls  ascend  one 
by  one  all  the  rounds  of  this  ladder  of  transformation, 
from  mere  animal  existence  to  the  point  where  their 
elements  become  disintegrated,  and  then  they  return  to 
the  primordial  unity.* 

This  doctrine  of  transmigration  is  the  basis  of  the 
profound  respect  with  which  all  creature  life  is  treated, 
for  souls  are  concealed  in  the  forms  even  of  the  lower 
animals.^  As  the  highest  aim  of  existence  is  absorption 
in  Brahma,  the  ascetic  and  contemplative  life  is  the  best 
that  man  can  lead.  The  body  is  indeed  but  the  prison 
of  the  soul,  which  the  soul  should  leave  with  the  sam^ 
gladness  with  which  the  bird  takes  its  flight  from  the 
tree.^  By  meditation  and  contemplation,  the  spirit  be- 
comes freed  from  all  earthly  affection,  and  begins  its 
absorption  in  Brahma,^  who,  being  more  subtle  than  the 
atom,  can  only  be  apprehended  by  the  spirit  in  a  state 
of  ecstasy  and  contemplation. 

The  last  stage  of  the  Brahman's  life  is  the  solitude  of 
the  forest,  but  he  must  on  no  account  begin  with  this. 
His  first  duty  is  to  perpetuate  the  holy  race,  to  teach 
the  Divine  law,  and  celebrate  the  sacred  rites.  Great 
importance  is  thus  attached,  as  we  shall  see,  to  the 
constitution  of  the  family,  without  which  the  priesthood 
would  perish,  since  it  is  a  strictl}^  hereditary  dignity,  the 
lines  of  caste  being  fixed  and  inviolable.  The  laws  of 
Manu  exalt  to  the  highest  possible  point  the  dignity  of 
the  Brahmans.  The  code  of  the  priesthood  interprets 
in  the  most  exclusive  sense,  the  more  or  less  authentic 

'   "Laws  of  Manu,"  i.  57.         '  Ibid.,  i.  23,  et  seq.         *  Ibid.,  viii.  306. 

*  Ibid.,  i.  1-3.  ••  Ibid.,  xii.  3.  «  Ibid.,  vi.  7,  8. 

'  Ibid.,  i.  54, 


202    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

text  of  the  Vedas,  according  to  which  the  Brahman  was 
born  from  the  mouth  of  the  supreme  god,  and  the  other 
castes  from  his  arms,  thighs,  and  feet.  The  Brahman, 
who  came  forth  from  the  noblest  part  of  the  god,  was 
by  this  fact  constituted  lord  of  all  other  creatures/  He 
is  the  incarnation  of  the  justice  of  the  god  with  which  he 
is  finally  to  be  identified.^  All  that  exists  in  the  world  is  at 
his  disposal.^  Whether  learned  or  ignorant,  the  Brahman 
is  a  great  divinity.*  It  is  by  virtue  of  his  office  that  the 
v^^orld  and  the  gods  exist. ^  His  prayers  have  power  to 
call  into  being  other  worlds  and  other  gods,^  Every  offence 
against  him  is  sacrilege ;  his  sacred  character  is  indelible.^ 
Punishment  assumes  a  milder  form  when  applied  to  his 
delinquencies.^  The  best  portion  is  always  his  by  right. 
A  Sudra  may  not  accumulate  too  much  wealth  for  fear 
of  humbling  his  superior,^  and  he  must  always  remember 
that  he  has  been  created  to  do  service  to  his  superior.-'*' 
Thus  the  Brahman  may  do  nothing  to  raise  the  Sudra 
above  his  low  condition.  He  is  not  allowed  to  instruct 
him,  not  even  in  the  ceremonies  of  expiation,  but  he  may 
reduce  him  to  slavery,"  Gifts  made  to  a  Brahman  have  a 
meritorious  value.  "  All  that  is  given  to  this  venerable 
man  produces  good  fruit."  He  has  a  right  to  take 
possession,  if  necessary  by  craft  or  force,  of  everything 
needed  for  the  sacrifice,  even  if  for  this  purpose  he  has 
to  despoil  the  house  of  the  Sudra. ^^ 

Such  were  the  exorbitant  claims  of  the  priestly  caste. 
It  simply  placed  itself  above  all  law  ;  no  clergy  ever 
arrogated  to  itself  such  privileges. 

After  the  claims  come  the  duties  of  the  priesthood,  and 
first  those  peculiar  to  the  office.  In  this  part  of  the 
laws  of  Manu  the  priest  appears  in  a  new  character,  as 
primarily  a  doctor  of  the  law.  It  is  logical  that  this 
preponderance  should  be  given  to  religious  knowledge, 
when  the  divinity  himself  is  an  impersonal  principle, 
to  which  the  soul  is  united  by  contemplation.  This  is 
the    undisputed  reign  of  gnosticism.     Brahma  is  rather 

'  "Laws  of  Manu,"  i.  99.  *  Ibid.,  ix.  316.  ^  Ibid.,  x.  129. 

^  Ibid.,  i.  98.  *  Ibid.,  ix.  315.  "•  Ibid.,  viii.  413. 

*  Ibid.,  i.  100.  '  Ibid.,  ix.  319.  "  Ibid.,  viii.  414,  417. 

^  Ibid.,  ix.  317.  *  Ibid.,  ix.  241.  ''^  Ibid.,  xi.  12. 


BRAHMANISM.  203 


an  intellectual  concept  than  a-  living  being.  He  is  not 
a  god  "  to  whose  knees  man  may  cling,"  as  said  Pascal. 

The.  preparation  for  the  office  of  Brahman  consists 
essentially  in  the  study  of  the  sacred  books  and  of  all 
that  relates  to  the  knowledge  of  the  holy.  The  mere  fact 
of  ordination  is  not  enough  to  qualify  a  Brahman  for  his 
work.  A  prolonged  novitiate  is  necessary.  The  young 
novice  prepares  himself  for  the  ascetic  life,  which  is  the 
highest  term  of  his  calling,  by  begging  his  bread,i 
but  this  is  no  hindrance  to  his  loading  his  master  with 
presents.^  To  this  master  the  utmost  veneration  must  be 
shown,  and  implicit  obedience  rendered.  "  Controlling 
his  body,  his  speech,  his  organs  of  sense,  let  the  novice 
stand  with  joined  hands,  looking  at  the  face  of  his 
teacher."  ^  It  is  by  unreserved  submission  that  he  will 
be  best  prepared  for  union  with  the  Divine  being. 

His  master  is  truly  his  father  according  to  the  spirit, 
for  he  gives  him  a  new  birth.  "  Sacred  science  is  his 
mother,  and  the  teacher  his  father."  * 

The  sacred  cord  is  the  symbol  of  this  new  birth,  effected 
by  the  knowledge  of  the  holy."  It  destro3's  all  impurity 
within  the  novice,  as  fire  devours  the  tree  in  the  forest. 
It  prepares  him  for  immortality  and  union  with  Brahma. 
The  only  sure  way  not  to  err  from  the  truth  is  to  submit 
absolutely  to  the  authority  of  the  sacred  books,  which 
takes  the  place  of  evidence,  and  is  weightier  than  logic.® 
The  decisive  interpretation  is  given  by  the  Brahmans 
when  they  assemble  to  determine  the  true  meaning  of 
the  texts. 

Beside  the  reverence  due  to  his  master,  the  novice  is 
to  honour  all  the  gods  and  all  his  betters.^ 

The  time  of  novitiate  passed,  the  duties  of  the  priest 
of  Brahma  begin.  Above  all  things,  he  is  enjoined  to 
live  an  exemplary  life,  worthy  in  its  general  tenor,  and 
even  in  the  outward  seeming,  of  his  high  calling.^  He  has 
three  debts  to  discharge  :  the  study  of  the  Vedas,  which 
is  to  be  carried  on  throughout  his  whole  course;  sacrifice; 

'   "Laws  of  Manu,"  ii.  49— 51.  ••  Ibid.,  ii.  145 — 148. 

*  Ibid.,  ii.  245,  246.  ^  Ibid.,  ii.  170. 

*  Ibid.,  ii.  192.  «  Ibid.,  i.  104 — 108. 

'  Ibid.,  ii.  206—208.  *  Ibid.,  iv.  16  —  18. 


204    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

and  the  begetting  of  a  son.  This  implies  a  certain  period 
devoted  to  family  life,  but  through  it  all  his  aspiration  is 
to  be  fixed  on  the  final  term  of  his  probation,  the  ascetic 
life  of  the  forest. 

We  have  already  spoken  of  the  importance  of  sacred 
study,  which  was  not  to  cease  for  a  day.  Let  us  now 
say  something  of  the  duties  relating  to  sacrifice,  before 
touching  on  those  of  the  father  of  the  family.  Judging 
only  from  the  outward  manifestations  of  the  religious  life, 
one  would  think  that  sacrifice  had  retained  the  same 
character  as  in  the  earlier  period.  It  is  still  offered  to  the 
ancient  gods  :  Agni,  Soma,  Indra,  Varuna.  It  is  still  a 
sacred  aliment,  which,  after  it  has  passed  through  the  fire, 
is  offered  to  the  gods  for  the  renewal  of  their  strength.-^  The 
times  of  sacrifice  are  the  same  as  of  old.^  The  blood  of 
the  victim  is  still  poured  out,  and  the  immolation  of  the 
horse  is  still  the  great  ceremonial.  To  this  is  ascribed 
efficacy  to  destroy  sin.^  Yet  in  reality  all  is  changed. 
The  sacrifice  is  now  far  more  a  purification  than  an  ex- 
piation or  the  mysterious  sustenance  of  the  gods.  That 
which  has  to  be  purged  away  is  chiefly  the  earthly 
existence  itself,  which  is  always  imperfect  from  the  very 
fact  of  its  limitation,  since  there  is  no  real  good  save  in 
the  absolute  being,  in  the  ineffable  One  who  is  adored 
vmder  the  name  of  Brahma.  The  life  of  the  body  is  in 
itself  a  defilement.  Hence  the  rites  used  at  the  birth 
of  the  child  are  designed  for  the  purification  of  its  body. 
The  foetus  itself  is  to  be  purified  by  an  offering  of  fire. 
The  tonsure  and  the  sacred  cord  complete  the  purifica- 
tion of  the  novice  from  any  remaining  defilements  of  his 
birth. ^  It  is  clearly  said  that  sacred  study,  pious  observ- 
ances, offerings  of  fire,  offerings  to  the  gods,  the  procrea- 
tion of  sons,  the  five  great  ablutions,  and  the  solemn 
sacrifices  prepare  for  the  final  absorption  into  the  Divine 
Being,  which  is  consummated  by  the  destruction  of  the 
body.^  Nay,  more,  the  study  of  the  law,  which  holds  the 
first  place  in  this  category,  may  be  a  substitute  for  all 
the  other  sacrifices,  since,  by  means  of  contemplation,  it 

'  "Laws  of  Manu,"  iii.  8i,  et  seq.  *  Ibid.,  xi.  261. 

*  Ibid.,  iv.  25,  26.  ^  Ibid.,  ii.  27. 

=  Ibid.,  li.  28. 


BRAHMANISM.  205 


enables  the  soul  to  anticipate  the  final  union  with  Brahma, 
on  condition,  however,  that  this  study  be  accompanied  with 
great  austerities.  We  have  seen  how  the  knowledge  oi 
the  Vedas  is  compared  to  a  purifying  flame.  "All  sins 
committed  by  men  in  thought,  word,  or  deed,  can  be 
entirely  consumed  by  the  fire  of  their  austerity."  ^  Sacred 
formularies  are  equally  efficacious.  There  is  a  formula 
which,  repeated  three  times,  purifies  the  greatest  criminal, 
even  if  he  has  stolen  gold  from  a  Erahman.-  The  same 
effect  is  produced  by  the  utterance  of  the  mystic  name  of 
the  god,  especially  if  the  breath  is  held  in  speaking  it,  as 
if  to  symbolise  the  voluntary  annihilation  of  self.^  It  is 
said  expressly  that  to  murmur  thus  the  ineffable  name  of 
Brahma,  is  a  far  more  effectual  means  of  purification  than 
all  ablutions  and  sacrifices.* 

The  Brahman  who  retains  in  his  memory  the  complete 
Rig  Veda  would  not  be  defiled  by  any  crime  whatsoever, 
even  if  he  had  killed  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  three  worlds 
and  accepted  food  from  the  vilest  of  men.^  Just  as  a  clod 
of  earth  thrown  into  a  great  lake  would  disappear,  so 
every  guilty  act  is  buried  beneath  the  Veda.  It  was  not 
possible  to  exalt  the  Vedas  more  highly  than  this  and  yet 
at  the  same  time  more  completely  to  belie  their  spirit  by 
changing  the  whole  conception  of  worship.  What  place 
is  there  in  this  new  system  for  that  sacrifice  of  the  earth 
and  heavens  which  is  the  life  of  the  universe  ?  Here 
everything  centres  in  the  knowledge  of  the  sacred  letter 
and  in  asceticism,  as  the  means  to  annihilate  the  physical 
life,  which. formerly  was  to  be  fostered  and  developed  that 
it  might  feed  and  brighten  the  flame  of  Agni. 

The  Brahmanic  legislation  gives  some  scope,  however, 
for  the  development  of  the  natural  hfe  of  the  family, 
since  the  third  great  duty  of  the  I  rahman  is  the  per- 
petuation of  the  holy  race.  Now:  ere  in  the  ancient 
world  is  family  life  placed  in  such  c,  position  of  honour 
as  in  the  laws  of  Manu.  The  hone  is  represented  as 
a  true  sanctuary,  where  morning  ant  evening  the  father 
ofters    his    oblations,   by   which    the  whole  world    is  up- 

•  "Laws  of  Manu,"  xi.  238 — 245.  ^  Ibid.,  xi.  249. 

»  Ibid.,  xi.  251.  ■•  Ibid.,  ii.  S3,  84, 

*  Ibid.,  xi.  262. 


2o6    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

held.  Hospitality  is  raised  to  the  height  of  a  sacri- 
fice. "  The  fulfilment  of  the  duties  of  hospitality  is  the 
offering  to  men."  There  are  minute  regulations  for 
marriage  in  the  religious  ceremonial,  and  a  stern  repro- 
bation of  its  being  treated  in  any  way  as  a  matter  of 
bargain  between  the  father  of  the  bride  and  his  future 
son-in-law.^ 

The  union  between  a  young  man  and  maiden,  when 
it  is  contracted  under  the  inspiration  of  mutual  affection, 
is  celebrated  by  sacred  rites.^  Prompted  by  love,  its 
end  is  the  enjoyment  of  love.  "  He  only  is  a  perfect 
man  who  consists  of  three  persons  in  one — his  wife,  him- 
self, and  his  son.  The  husband  is  declared  to  be  one 
with  the  wife."* 

Chastity  was  a  primary  virtue.^  With  a  view  to 
propagating  the  holy  race,  a  man  has  the  right,  and  it  is 
indeed  his  duty,  to  seek  for  beauty  in  his  wife.  It  is  said 
of  the  Brahman  :  "  Let  him  take  a  well-made  woman,  with 
a  pleasant  name,  with  the  bearing  of  a  swan  or  a  young 
elephant,  with  fine  hair,  small  teeth  and  soft  limbs."  ^  To 
observe  mutual  fidelity  was  the  first  duty  of  husband  and 
wife.^  Marriage  was,  as  a  rule,  indissoluble.  A  young 
girl  was  given  once  only  in  marriage.  If  she  lost  her 
husband,  she  was  not  to  take  the  name  of  another  man. 
"  Wherever  women  are  honoured,"  says  the  book  of  the 
law,  "  the  gods  are  satisfied ;  but  where  it  is  not  so,  all 
pious  acts  lose  their  virtue.  Every  family  in  which  the 
women  are  hardly  treated  soon  becomes  extinct."  **  Houses 
upon  which  the  curse  of  the  women  rests,  because  due 
homage  has  not  been  paid  them,  go  to  ruin  as  under  the 
effect  of  a  magic  spell.  To  every  family  in  which  the 
husband  delights  in  his  wife,  and  she  in  him,  perpetual 
happiness  is  secured.®  When  the  woman  is  radiant  with 
beauty,  all  the  house  is  gay  also.^'^  The  woman  must 
be  submissive  first  as  a  daughter,  then  as  a  wife.^^ 
She  must  be  good-tempered,  manage  her  household 
economically,  and  be  absolutely  faithful. 

'  "Laws  of  Manu,"iii.  70.  *  Ibid.,  iii.  33,  ^•^  s^y.       ^  Ibid.,  iii.  60. 

*  Ibid.,  iii.  27,  30.  *  Ibid.,  iii.  10.  "»  Ibid.,  iii.  62. 

*  Ibid.,  iii.  32.  '  Ibid.,  ix.  101,  102.  "  Ibid.,  v.  148— 15 1. 

*  Ibid.,  ix.  45.  •  Ibid.,  iii.  ■;■?— 57. 


BRAHMANISM.  207 


Unhappily  this  high-toned  morality  was  relaxed  in 
practice  as  far  as  the  husband  was  concerned.  The  wife," 
it  is  said,  "must  be  invariably  faithful,  and  must  revere 
her  husband  like  a  god,  even  when  he  has  indulged  in 
illicit  amours."  ^  The  happiness  of  the  family  is  valued 
at  such  a  price,  that  even  the  offices  of  piety  are  subor- 
dinate to  it.  Neither  sacrifice,  nor  fast,  nor  pious  observ- 
ance can  avail  for  the  woman  like  the  love  and  respect  of 
her  husband.  These  sentiments  suffice  to  procure  honour 
for  her  in  heaven,"  as  they  have  already  secured  her  all 
respect  upon  earth.  "Way  must  be  made  for  a  woman, 
as  for  a  king,  a  bridegroom,  or  an  aged  man."  ^ 

There  can  be  no  security  for  family  life  without  a 
normal  constitution  of  the  State.  Thus  the  Brahmanic 
legislation  determines  its  organisation  with  great  care 
and  singular  wisdom.  The  principal  institution  of  the 
State  is  the  monarchy.  Its  Divine  origin  is  clearly  re- 
cognised. The  king  is  expressly  enjoined  to  rely  upon 
the  Brahmans  and  to  favour  them.^ 

The  rules  laid  down  for  him  in  the  performance  of  his 
duties  both  in  peace  and  war,  are  based  on  high-minded 
and  liberal  principles.  He  is  never  to  strike  a  defenceless 
enemy."  He  is  the  great  guardian  of  justice  ;  this  is  his 
true  priesthood."  "When  justice,  wounded  by  injustice, 
presents  itself  before  the  judges,  and  the  judges  do  not 
draw  out  the  dart,  they  are  themselves  wounded.  Justice 
strikes  when  it  is  wounded,  and  protects  when  it  is  main- 
tained.^ It  is  the  only  friend  that  accompanies  man  after 
death. **  Punishment  is  a  celestial  being,  created  by  the 
gods,  in  order  to  ensure  to  all  the  possession  of  their 
rights.^  It  is  a  king,  full  of  courage,  of  sombre  hue,  but 
keen  eye,  which  governs  the  human  race,  protecting  the 
feeble  against  the  strong.  It  would  strike  even  the  king 
if  he  strayed  from  the  path  of  his  duty."  ^° 

This  social  morality  is  based  upon  a  general  morality  of 
singular  purity,  in  which  we  trace  the  righteous  reaction 
of  conscience    against    speculative  errors.     The    laws  of 

'  "Laws  of  Manu,"  v.  154.       ■•  Ibid.,  vii.  37,  38,  58.       ^  Ibid.,  viii.  12. 

*  Ibid.,  V.  155.  *  Ibid.,  vii.  90—93,  *  Ibid.,  viii.  17. 

•  Ibid.,  ii.  138.  6  Ibid.,  viii.  311.  »  Ibid.,  vii.  14. 

'•  Ibid.,  vii.  17,  28. 


2o8    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

Manu  do  not  contain  only  particular  precepts,  admirable 
in  themselves,  such  as  those  which  enjoin  the  forgiveness 
of  injuries,^  the  gene;'ous  sharing  of  the  necessaries  of  life 
with  others,  and  w^acchfulness  against  incitements  to  evil 
by  which  the  purity  of  even  a  wise  man  may  easily  be 
sullied.^  These  lofty  maxims  are  connected  with  great 
general  principles  f)r  the  regulation  of  the  entire  life, 
principles  which  ri^.e  far  above  the  downward  religious 
conception  of  Brahrr  anism. 

In  the  first  place,  the  authority  of  conscience  is  appealed 
to  in  addition  to  tha;  of  the  sacred  code  and  of  tradition, 
although  the  law  n-tains  its  supremacy,  even  when  it 
seems  to  enjoin  that  which  is  evil.  "The  law,"  we  read 
in  one  significant  pr.ssage,  "  has  for  its  basis  the  entire 
Veda,  the  injunctions  and  practices  of  those  who  possess 
it,  the  immemorial  cistoms  of  the  great  and  good,  and  in 
doubtful  cases  the  sense  of  inward  satisfaction."  ^  We 
know,  indeed,  that  t!.e  written  law  was  too  often  allowed 
to  overrule  the  higher  promptings  of  the  inward  law  ;  but 
it  is  nevertheless  a  great  thing  that  the  authority  of  con- 
science should  have  been  able  to  assert  itself  in  the  face 
of  tradition  and  ritual.  This  authority  is  unequivocally 
affirmed  in  the  following  passages  :  "  The  soul  is  its  own 
witness  and  its  own  refuge.  Let  us  not  despise  our 
soul,  that  imerring  witness."  ^  "  The  wicked  sa}'  to  them- 
selves :  '  None  sees  us,'  but  the  gods  see  them,  as  does 
the  spirit  that  is  in  them."  ^  "  While  thou  sayest :  '  I  am 
alone,'  in  thy  heart  there  dwells  all  the  time  that  supreme 
spirit,  the  silent  observer  of  all  good  and  all  evil ;  there  is 
a  severe  judge ;  there  is  a  god."  ^  Truthfulness  is  enjoined 
as  a  virtue  of  the  first  order.^  All  things  are  determined 
by  the  word  ;  from  t!ie  word  it  is  they  all  proceed.  The 
rogue  who  falsifies  the  word  for  his  own  purposes,  falsifies 
the  basis  of  all  things.  Sometimes  the  moral  idea  has 
enough  power  to  break  the  fetters  of  sacerdotalism. 
Religious  observances  are  declared  to  be  worse  than  use- 
less, when  they  are  observed  from  interested  motives.^  A 
sacrifice  is  nullified  by  a  lie,  the  merit  of  austere  practices 

'  "Laws  of  Manu,"  viii.  313.     *  Ibid.,  viii.  84.         '  Ibid.,  iv.  175. 
*  Ibid.,  lii.  114,  ei  seq.  °  Ibid.,  viii.  85.         *  Ibid.,  xi.  lO. 

'  Ibid.,  iL  6.  •  Ibid.,  viii.  91. 


BRAHMANISM.  209 

by  vanity,  and  charitable  actions  by  boastfulness.^ 
"  Though  (by  his  learning  and  sanctity)  a  Brahman  may 
be  entitled  to  accept  presents,  let  him  not  attach  himself 
(too  much)  to  that  habit;  for  through  his  accepting 
(many)  presents  the  Divine  light  in  him  is  soon  extin- 
guished." ^  The  very  rule  of  caste  seems  to  give  way  to 
a  higher  nobility.  *'  It  is  not  years,  nor  grey  hairs,  nor 
parentage  which  impart  greatness  ;  he  is  great  who  knows 
the  Vedas."  ^  "An  ignorant  Brahman  is  like  an  elephant 
made  of  wood."^  There  is  something  even  higher  than 
sacred  knowledge,  since  this  only  confers  superiority 
when  it  is  accompanied  with  the  virtue  which  resists  the 
impulses  of  passion.  Even  with  less  knowledge  of  the 
sacred  books,  the  Brahman  who  exercises  self-control  is 
greater  than  he  who  yields  to  temptation.^  Forgetting 
his  implacable  severity  towards  all  that  is  outside  the  holy 
caste,  the  legislator,  in  a  sudden  access  of  charity,  allows 
almsgiving  even  to  heretics.^ 

This  whole  system  of  morals  may  be  thus  summed  up  : 
"  Contentment,  the  act  of  returning  good  for  evil,  temper- 
ance, purity,  repression  of  that  which  is  sensual,  the 
knowledge  of  the  holy  books,  union  with  the  supreme 
soul,  truthfulness,  and  the  avoidance  of  anger — these 
are  the  virtues  which  constitute  our  duty."  ^  Being  care- 
ful not  to  hurt  any  living  being,  the  Brahman  should  add 
to  his  virtue,  as  the  white  ants  enlarge  their  habita- 
tion.^ Let  him  remember  that  man  comes  into  the  world 
alone,  that  he  dies  alone,  and  receives  alone  the  recom- 
pense of  his  good  deeds,  and  that,  in  order  that  he  may 
not  have  to  pass  alone  through  the  impenetrable  darkness, 
he  must  have  merit  as  his  companion.^ 

It  would  be  impossible  that,  in  view  of  this  lofty 
moral  ideal,  the  Brahman  should  not  have  also  at  least  an 
occasional  consciousness  of  sin,  and  that  he  should  not 
desire  some  other  expiation  than  the  mere  purification  of 
the  defilement  of  the  body  or  the  recitation  of  sacred 
formulas.     The  confession  of  wrong  done  is  indeed  pre- 


'  "Laws  of  Manu,"  iv.  237.         ^  Ibid.,  ii.  157.  '  Ibid.,  vi.  92. 

2  Ibid.,  iv.  186.  *  Ibid.,  ii.  118.  8  Ibid.,  iv.  238. 

•  Ibid.,  ii.  154.  «  Ibid.,  iv.  32.  *  Ibid.,  iv.  240,  242. 

14 


210    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

sented  as  the  first  expiation.  When  it  is  sincere  the  man 
is  freed  from  guilt,  "  as  a  snake  from  its  slough."  ^  Wrong 
done  to  others  must  also  be  repaired  by  restitution  of 
the  goods  unjustly  acquired,  as  well  as  by  austerities  and 
prayers.  In  the  third  place,  the  offender  must  repent,  and 
he  is  only  absolved  when  he  says  ;  "  I  will  do  so  no  more."  ^ 
Lastly,  he  is  to  rise  above  mere  formalism  in  the  exercises 
of  his  devotion.  "  If,  after  having  made  expiation,  his  mind 
is  still  uneasy,  let  him  repeat  the  austerities  (prescribed 
as  a  penance)  till  they  fully  satisfy  (his  conscience)."  ^ 

It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  prayer  forms  a  part  of 
these  devotions.  We  may  then  venture  to  believe  that 
there  sometimes  rose  from  the  lips  of  the  penitent,  some- 
thing hke  an  echo  of  the  sublime  penitential  hymns  of  the 
Veda  which  we  have  already  cited. 

And  yet  this  invocation  of  the  supreme  pity  died  away 
in  empty  air,  so  long  as  the  worshipper  of  Brahma  re- 
mained shut  up  within  the  narrow  circle  of  his  religion. 
His  god  did  not,  like  Indra,  incline  his  ear  to  receive  his 
groaning,  for  he  was  lost  in  the  dull  void  of  unconscious- 
ness. All  this  high  religious  morality  was  objectless,  since 
the  ultimate  ideal  was  not  to  live  well,  but  to  cease  to  live 
at  all,  the  individual  losing  himself  by  contemplation  and 
asceticism  in  the  supreme  soul,  the  immutable  Brahma. 
The  higher  grade  of  holiness  towards  which  the  Brahman 
was  to  be  ever  striving,  was  the  life  of  the  anchorite,  for 
which  he  was  to  leave  the  family  home  and  bury  him- 
self in  the  depths  of  the  forest.  Even  while  living  as 
a  husband  and  father,  he  is  bound  often  to  seek  soli- 
tude in  order  to  meditate  on  the  future  blessedness  of 
his  soul,  and  that  he  may  attain  to  felicity.*  W^hen  the 
time  so  long  looked  forward  to  comes  at  length,  he  leaves 
his  house,  carrying  with  him  a  few  utensils,  keeping 
silence,  all  desire  dead,  and  devotes  himself  to  a  life  of 
asceticism.  He  is  to  meditate  in  silence  and  fix  his  mind 
on  the  Divine  Being.  A  hut  of  earth  or  the  roots  of  a  great 
tree  for  his  habitation,  scanty  garments,  and  absolute  soli- 
tude— these  are  the  signs  which  distinguish  the  Brahman 
who  is  aspiring  after  the  final  deliverance.     He  may  not 

■  "Laws  of  Manu,"  xi.  229,  ^  Ibid.,  xi.  234. 

*  Ibid.,  xi.  231.  *  Ibid.,  vi.  61,  et  seq. 


BRA  HMA  NISM.  2 1 1 


desire  either  life  or  death,  but  await  the  moment  appointed 
for  him,  as  a  servant  waits  for  his  wages. ^  This  is  the 
final  term  of  that  adoration  of  Brahma  in  which  all  in- 
dividuality is  lost.  The  fundamental  idea  of  the  religion 
of  the  Hindoos,  long  veiled  under  its  brilliant  mythology, 
thus  reveals  its  true  nature,  and  approaches  that  doctrine 
of  annihilation  which  is  to  be  its  ultimatum,  in  spite  of 
the  righteous  protests  of  conscience. 

§    IV. — The   Messiah   of  the   Brahmans   in   the   Epic 
Poems  of  India. 

Brahma,  the  abstract,  motionless  god,  who  rather 
resembles  no-being  than  the  principle  of  life,  could  not 
long  suffice  for  the  religious  needs  of  the  people.  In  spite 
of  the  honour  put  upon  the  family  life,  it  was  well  under- 
stood that  the  final  goal  to  be  reached  w^as  the  stern 
asceticism  of  the  solitary,  who  sought  to  imitate  his  god 
by  quenching  in  himself  all  individual  life,  and  putting 
away  all  that  forms  the  charm  of  existence.  The  con- 
science of  the  people  prevailed,  as  it  always  does,  in  the 
end,  and  made  its  claims  heard  by  the  leaders  of  religion, 
who  contented  themselves  with  giving  a  political  and 
speculative  response.  They  could  not  return  to  the  gods 
of  the  past,  to  the  valiant  Indra,  Agni,  and  Soma  ;  but 
they  retained  what  was  compassionate  and  helpful  in  their 
attributes,  and  tried  to  perpetuate  their  better  element 
by  ascribing  it  to  other  gods,  who,  if  they  were  not  new, 
were  at  Jeast  so  transformed  as  to  be  brought  as  near 
as  possible  to  poor  humanity.  Thus  was  founded  the 
worship  of  the  Divine  deliverers  in  human  form,  those 
incarnate  gods  who,  under  the  names  of  ^iva,  Vishnu, 
Rama,  and  Bhagavat,  played  so  important  a  part  in  the 
religious  evolution  of  the  Indians,  both  before  Buddhism 
and  after.  This  cultus  was  sometimes  divided  among 
various  sects,  each  attaching  itself  to  the  worship  of 
one  of  these  gods  to  the  exclusion  of  the  rest,  or  at 
least  placing  its  particular  god  so  high  above  his  ancient 
rivals,  that  he  seemed  to  reign  alone,  ^iva  and  Vishnu 
were  by  turns  the  favourite  gods  of  great  religious  com- 

'■  "  Laws  of  Manu,"  vi.  45, 


212    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

munities.  We  shall  not  follow  the  complicated  history  of 
these  sects,  because  they  belong  to  a  later  development. 
The  attempt  made  to  unite  in  one  common  worship, 
Brahma  the  Creator,  Vishnu  the  Preserver,  and  (^iva  the 
Destroyer,  also  belongs  to  modern  history.  This  essen- 
tially metaphysical  trinity  represents  the  absolute  under 
three  forms,  and  gives  us  a  sort  of  triple  evolution  of  the 
Divine  unity.^  We  shall  content  ourselves  with  briefly 
explaining  in  its  fundamental  idea,  the  religious  conception 
by  which  the  Divine  incarnations  were  multiplied,  as  it 
comes  out  in  the  two  most  ancient  poems  of  India.  Even 
though  they  may  have  been  considerably  modified  in  their 
transmission  through  various  sects,  it  is  beyond  question, 
that  they  represent  a  general  tendency  of  the  Indian  mind, 
by  which  the  transition  was  effected  from  Brahmanism  to 
the  laws  of  Manu  and  to  Buddhism. 

Of  the  two  great  Indian  poems,  the  Mahabharata 
and  the  Ramayana,  the  former  is  the  more  ancient. 
Without  dwelling  on  the  numberless  interpolations  it 
contains,  we  may  say  there  is  no  certain  indication  by 
which  to  determine  the  date  of  its  original  compilation. 
It  appears  to  us  probable  that,  in  its  elementary  form  at 
least,  it  was  antecedent  to  Buddhism,  for  it  contains  not 
a  single  allusion  to  it.  In  any  case,  in  this  changeless 
land,  where  a  century  is  as  a  day,  the  substance  of  the 
ideas  contained  in  these  two  great  poems  certainly  dates 
from  the  period  when  the  hearts  of  men  began  to  be 
stirred  by  ardent  aspirations  after  a  god  less  remote,  less 
dreary,  than  the  old  Brahma,  even  before  the  time  had 
come  for  openly  forsaking  his  worship.  It  is  to  these 
aspirations  that  satisfaction  is  given  in  the  epic  poems  in 
which  the  supreme  god  appears  as  a  hero.  He  no  longer 
dwells  on  high,  like  Indra,  in  the  bright  clouds  ;  he  has 
truly  come  down  to  this  earth  on  which  we  live  and  suffer 
and  struggle.  Truly  man,  he  fights  side  by  side  with 
men  and  for  them  ;  yet  he  is  still  the  greatest  of  the  gods 
even  in  the  earthly  form  which  he  has  assumed  in  order 
to  accomplish  his  work  of  deliverance.  He  is,  indeed,  the 
Messiah  of  Brahmanic  India. 

'  For  all  this  history  of  the  Indian  sects,  see   Earth's  "Religions  of 
India." 


BRA  HMA  NISM.  2 13 

The  human  gods  of  the  great  poems  are  completely 
distinct  from  Buddha,  inasmuch  as  they  do  not  enter 
into  conflict  with  the  ancient  gods.  They  belong  even 
by  their  names  to  the  Vedic  pantheon,  and  they  leave 
Brahma  to  sleep  his  eternal  sleep,  without  disturbing  him 
at  all  with  the  noise  of  their  battles.  They  take  his  place 
as  supreme,  at  least  in  the  direct  influence  upon  hearts 
and  minds,  as  he  himself  had  taken  the  place  of  the  gods 
of  the  Vedas,  whose  worship  had  never  ceased,  though 
they  had  been  relegated  to  comparative  obscurity.  The 
revolution  was  effected  gradually  and  quietly,  without 
struggles  or  schism. 

It  is  easy  to  connect  with  the  ancient  religion,  under 
its  two  forms — the  Vedic  and  Brahmanic — the  origin  of 
the  human  gods  who  henceforth  occupy  the  foremost 
place.  They  form  at  first  one  and  the  same  divinity 
under  various  names,  (^iva,  Rudra,  Rama,  are  originally 
only  appellations  or  manifestations  of  Vishnu.  Subse- 
quently, no  doubt,  Civa  becomes  a  distinct  character  and 
the  object  of  a  particular  worship.  But  we  find  nothing 
like  this  in  the  two  great  epic  poems.  In  the  Mahabharata, 
^iva  is  worshipped  by  the  same  title  as  Vishnu  ;  they 
form  one  and  the  same  divinity,  at  once  supreme  and 
human,  ^iva  is  hardly  mentioned  in  the  Vedas.  Yet 
we  recognise  him  in  Rudra,  the  father  of  the  Maruts,  the 
lightning  gods  already  identified  with  Agni.  He  is  thus 
preparing  for  the  formidable  part  to  be  assigned  to  him 
later,  but  at  this  period  his  consuming  flames  are  for  the 
behoof  of  man.  Rudra-^iva  appears  in  a  new  character 
in  the  hymn  to  The  hundred  Riidras,  inserted  in  all  the 
editions  of  the  Yajur-Veda.  He  is  there  represented  as 
the  god  of  the  people,  the  patron  of  all  craftsmen,  the 
head  of  the  armies,  the  god  of  the  brave,  whether  soldiers 
or  brigands.  It  only  remains  to  identify  him  with  Vishnu, 
and  he  becomes  the  incarnate  god  of  the  Mahabharata.^ 
We  have  already  seen  Vishnu  occupying  a  very  exalted 
place  in  the  Vedas  as  sun-god.  "  Friend  Vishnu,"  says 
Indra  to  him,  "arm  thyself,  and  roll  the  thunder  across 
the  sky.     Strike   Vritra"  (the  serpent).     His  beneficent 

*  Earth,  "Religions  of  India,"  p.  163. 


214    THE  ANCIEN7  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

character  was  expressed  in  the  praj^er  :  "  Grant  us  thine 
aid,  O  swift  god.  Look  upon  us  with  an  eye  of  favour, 
that  we  may  be  enriched."  He  becomes  a  human  god 
by  being  confounded  with  Krishna,  who  rapidly  rises 
very  high  in  the  Indian  pantheon.  He  is  at  first  simply 
the  disciple  of  a  sage ;  then  he  becomes  a  god  of  the 
people,  like  ^iva,  as  is  shown  by  the  dramatic  representa- 
tions of  his  adventures  given  three  centuries  before  Christ. 
As  he  becomes  more  and  more  identified  with  Vishnu,  he 
shares  in  the  suprem.acy  of  the  old  solar  gods,  and  in  the 
end  concentrates  in  himself  the  myths  of  the  fire,  the 
lightning,  and  the  storm.  In  return,  he  imparts  to  Vishnu 
life  and  movement.  By  means  of  this  evolution  Vishnu 
finally  becomes  pre-eminently  the  human  god,  always 
ready  for  incarnation.  In  the  Bhagavad  Gita,  which  is 
of  much  later  date  than  the  Mahabharata  and  the  Rama- 
yana,  he  is  made  to  say :  "  Every  time  that  religion  is 
in  danger  and  that  impiety  triumphs  I  issue  forth."  ^ 
This  is  the  theory  of  the  Avataras,  or  the  "  Descents," 
the  series  of  hypostases  of  the  deity  in  order  to  assure 
the  triumph  of  good.  Rama  is  another  representation 
of  Vishnu.  We  shall  see  how  far  he  assumes  the 
character  of  a  human  hero  in  the  poem  which  bears  his 
name.^ 

At  the  period  of  the  two  great  epic  poems,  the  theory  of 
the  Avataras  is  still  in  embryo.  They  are  the  first 
popular  expressions  of  the  deep-felt  need  of  bringing  the 
god  near  to  man,  of  making  him  a  sharer  in  man's  con- 
flicts and  sufferings,  in  order  that  he  may  give  the  help 
without  which  victory  cannot  be  won.  There  is  as  yet  no 
"^isystematised  philosophy,  for  the  old  Brahmanic  idea  is 
retained,  though  in  subordination.  The  Mahabharata 
requires  a  submission  so  absolute  to  the  masters  of  sacred 
science,  that  even  that  which  is  evil  must  be  done  if  so 
enjoined.  The  disciple  must  give  to  the  Brahman  part  of 
all  he  receives.  The  ascetic  lives  in  solitude  in  a  state 
of  exaltation    not    to    be    described.^     He  possesses    the 

•  "  Bhagavad  Gita,"  iv.  7,  8. 

^  On  this  subject  of  the  incarnation,  see  Barth,  "Religions  of  India," 
"Hinduism,"  p.  159,  ct  scq. 

*  We  quote    the   Mahabharata   from   M.  Fauche's   translation,  in    10 


BRATIMANISM.  215 


knowledge  of  the  divine,  the  supreme  good,  and  by  his 
prayers  and  austerities  he  is  in  a  manner  raised  even 
above  the  gods.  He  reduces  the  enemy  to  ashes  more 
readily  than  Agni  himself.  All  this  is  done  by  the  mighty 
magic,  the  sacramental  virtue  of  the  formula.  These 
devotees  order  by  the  truth  the  goings  of  the  sun,  and 
uphold  the  world  by  their  penitence.  Sacred  science  is 
omnipotent.  If  a  man  had  committed  more  sins  than  all 
the  rest  of  the  world  put  together,  he  could  be  carried 
safely  across  this  ocean  of  sins  in  the  bark  of  divine 
knowledge.^ 

We  find  in  the  Mahabharata  the  cosmogony  of  the  laws 
of  Manu.  The  eternal  Brahma  is  represented  as  the 
supreme  certainty,  the  eternal  light,  comprehending  in 
himself  the  birth,  death,  and  resurrection  of  all  that  live. 
It  is  true  that  in  another  passage,  Vishnu  is  in  his  turn 
represented  as  the  eternal,  absolute  one,  the  god  of  being 
and  not-being  at  the  same  time ;  the  lord  of  all  that  moves 
and  of  all  that  moves  not.  This  identification  of  Brahma 
with  Vishnu  is  indeed  quite  in  harmony  with  the  old 
syncretism  of  the  Vedas.^  The  solar  myths  constantly 
reappear  with  their  brilliant  metaphors,  as  in  the  fine 
passage  in  which  the  two  Acvins  are  compared  to  two 
skilful  weavers,  weaving  alternately  the  white  of  the  dawn 
and  the  black  veil  of  night,  which  they  spread  over  the 
sun.  The  solar  myths  are  constantly  confounded  with 
the  epic  story  of  the  battles  between  the  Pandus,  the  sons 
of  the  Aryans,  and  the  children  of  Kama.  It  is  a  renewal 
under  another  form  of  the  eternal  struggle  of  light  with 
darkness,  w'ith  its  counterpart  upon  earth,  in  which  those 
who  represent  the  principle  of  light  are  incessantly  com- 
bating the  sons  of  the  demons.  The  Mahabharata  rings 
from  end  to  end  with  the  clash  of  arms  in  giant  con- 
flicts, which  are  described  with  as  much  minuteness 
of  detail    as    exaggeration   of   the    number  and   strength 


volumes.  The  poem  is  divided  into  eighteen  parts,  each  with  its  distinct 
name,  as  the  Vana-parva,  "Forest  Chapter"';  BhJshnia-parva,  "Book  of 
Bhishma";  Karna-pmva,  "  Book  of  Kama,"  etc.  The  numbering  of  the 
series  recommences  with  each  part. 

'  Bhishma-parva,  v.  1028. 

*  Ibid.,  see  opening  verses. 


2i6    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

of   the    combatants.      We    must    not    look    for    plan    or 
sequence  in  these  extravagant  poems,  in  which  the  genius 
of  the  Indian  race  displays  its  singular  brilliance  in  the 
description  of  nature,  but  allows  its  vivid  imagination  to 
run    riot,  breaking    through    all   definite    and    recognised 
forms.     The  poetic  soul  of  the  Indian  seems  to  delight  in 
those  limitless  aspects  of  nature  which  overpower  it  with 
their  grandeur.     What  can  be  more  sublime  for  example, 
than  the  description  of  the  sea,  in  the  Mahabharata  ?     It  is 
represented  as  the  vast  cave  of  the  waves,  its  waters  ever 
surging  and  restless,  peopled  with  fishes,  sharks,  and  living 
creatures  innumerable.     It  is  the  mother  of  all  gems,  the 
monarch  of  the  rivers,  the  habitation  of  the  flames  of  hades, 
at  once   awful    and  divine,  the   bottomless    laboratory  in 
which  the  ambrosia  of  the  gods  is  prepared.     Its  tumult 
strikes  terror  into  the  hearts  of  all  that  live,  as,  driven  by 
the   stormwind,  it  dashes   itself  against   the  shore,    rears 
itself  up  in  fierce  agitation,  and  dances,  making  its  waves 
clap  their  hands.     It  is  the  glorious  couch  of  Vishnu,  when, 
on  the  eve  of  the  world's  renovation,  he  begins  to  taste 
the    ecstasy  of  absorption.      Upon   its   breast    floats  the 
lotus  from  which  emerges  Brahma,  the  father  of  all  that 
live. 

The  great  forest  which  is  the  constant  theatre  of  the 
complicated  action  of  these  poems,  is  described  in  a  still 
more  m.ajestic  manner.     Is  it  not,  indeed,  the  most  faith- 
ful   image    of   India,    with  its  depths   of  darkness    under 
the  shade  of  the  thick  trees,  with  its  intersecting  glades, 
and  the  mysterious  whisperings  among  its  leaves,  as  the 
wind  sweeps  through  them  like  the  breath  of  the  Infinite  ? 
In  spring,  the  forest  is  the  garden  of  India,  all  perfumed 
with  flowers,  when  the  great  trees  rain  down  blossoms, 
or  bend  beneath  their  weight  of  fruit.     It  seems  like  the 
unfurled  banner  of  the  Lord.     A  soft,  balmy  wind  plays 
in  the  branches.     The  forest,  clothed  anew  in  living  green, 
re-echoes  to  the  song  of  birds  and  murmur  of  innumerable 
bees.     All  creatures  are  intoxicated  with  the  wine  of  new 
life.     Deer,   buffaloes,   tigers,   roam   through    the  woods. 
The  elephant   seeks  his  mate   in  the  forest  depths ;  and 
soft  v/avelets  of  sound  thrill  through  the  lotus  leaves  as 
they  open  to  the  sun. 


BRAHMANISM.  217 


It  is  in  this  enchanted  spot  that  the  Mahabharata  places 
the  idyll  of  Sakuntala,  the  betrothed  of  the  young  king. 
Forsaken  by  him  under  the  influence  of  an  evil  spell,  she 
only  regains  his  affections  after  the  most  cruel  ordeals. 
The  characters  thus  sketched  are  truly  human.  Nothing 
could  be  more  pathetic  than  the  picture  of  Savita,  weeping 
over  the  corpse  of  her  husband,  taken  away  from  her  by 
Yama,  and  winning  the  promise  that  he  should  come  back 
by  such  lamentations  as  these  : — 

"  No  joy  for  me  without  my  husband.  Without  him, 
I  desire  not  heaven ;  I  desire  not  happiness ;  I  desire  not 
life."  Over  the  mortal  remains  of  her  father  and  mother, 
the  young  girl  cries  :  "  They  live  in  me." 

Even  in  this  poem  we  find  an  appeal  to  the  voice  of 
conscience  as  the  highest  authority.  Sakuntala,  the  de- 
serted wife,  remonstrating  with  the  king  Dushyanta  for  his 
evil  deeds  says:  "If  you  think  I  am  alone,  you  do  not 
know  that  wise  man  within  your  heart.  He  knows  of  your 
evil  deed — in  his  sight  you  commit  sin.  A  man  who  has 
committed  sin  may  think  that  no  one  knows  it.  The  gods 
know  it,  and  the  old  man  within."  ^ 

Feelings  of  gentleness  and  consideration  for  others 
blossom  out  under  the  influence  of  the  more  human  gods. 
To  them  is  due  the  respect  shown  for  human  life,  even  in 
the  tumult  of  the  battlefield.  The  last  utterance  of  the 
dying  warrior  whose  passing  is  compared  to  the  setting  of 
the  sun,  is  a  word  of  pardon.  "  Let  the  father  be  given 
back  to  the  son,  and  brother  to  brother." 

Another  warrior  says  :  "  He  who  gives  a  trembling 
fugitive  into  the  enemy's  hand,  will  see  his  son  die 
before  the  time.  Turn  not  away  from  friend  or  servant, 
nor  from  any  who  asks  help  of  thee." 

We  must  now  look  more  closely  at  these  human  gods, 
whom  the  religious  consciousness  of  India  made  for  itself, 
in  its  alarm  at  feeling  itself  so  far  from  Brahma.  It  is  he 
himself  who  in  the  Mahabharata  proclaims  the  incarnation 
of  a  god-deliverer.  He  says:  "It  is  impossible  for  the 
Asuras  and  even  for  the  gods  to  overcome  the  evil  genii. 
This  is  the  means  I  have  chosen  to  subdue  them.     Vishnu, 


Mahab.   v  3c  15- 16. 


21 8    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 


the  four-armed,  the  bravest  of  warriors,  shall  come  down 
and  do  this  work.^  "  Be  thou  born  upon  the  earth,"  says 
Brahma  to  Vishnu,  "and  beget  heroes  to  be  thy  com- 
panions in  the  family  of  monkeys."  ^  Monkeys  represent 
the  good  genii,  the  allies  of  the  holy  race  in  their  battles 
with  powerful  foes.  Vishnu  soon  ceases  to  be  the  mere 
minister  of  the  will  of  Brahma.  He  becomes  himself 
under  the  name  of  ^iva,  as  well  as  under  his  own  name, 
the  cause  of  causes,  the  most  powerful  and  subtle  of 
beings,  the  sovereign  of  the  gods.^ 

"  I  am  haopy,"  exclaims  one  warrior,  "  though  I  am 
banished  from  heaven.  I  have  seen  the  giver  of  all  gifts, 
under  one  of  his  forms,  and  touched  his  hands."  Vishnu 
speaks  thus  of  his  incarnation  :  "  Though  I  was  not  born 
and  my  life  is  immortal,  I,  the  sovereign  of  all  beings, 
command  my  own  nature,  and  am  born  of  myself  by 
magic,  whenever  there  is  a  failure  in  virtue  and  increase 
of  vice.  Then  I  produce  myself  for  the  preservation  of 
the  good  and  the  destruction  of  the  wicked  and  the 
restoration  of  truth.*  I  am  not  visible  to  man.  I  have 
neither  beginning  nor  end ;  I  am  before  the  gods,  the 
typal  man,  the  Lord.^  The  wicked  despise  me  in  the 
body  which  I  have  assumed.  I  am  the  soul  which  is  in 
all  beings.     I  am  in  all  sacrifices,  in  all  prayer."  ^ 

The  worshipper  of  Vishnu  falls  at  his  feet  adoring  in 
him  the  universal  god.  "Thy  beams,  O  Brahma,"  he 
exclaims,  "consume  the  whole  universe.  Thou  art  Yama, 
Agni,  Varuna,  Prajapati."  ^ 

"  Thinking  thee  my  friend,  a  man  like  myself,"  says 
his  companion  in  arms,  "  I  called  thee  abruptly.  Ho  ! 
Krishna  !^  and  behold  this  man  apparently  like  his  fellows, 
was  in  truth  the  supreme  god,  came  down  into  the  world 
of  men,  to  be  born  again  upon  earth  and  to  overcome  the 
Asuras."  ^ 

"  Where  Krishna  is,  there  is  duty,  there  is  victory  !  " 
The  sons  of   Pandu  are  sustained  by  the  alliance  made 

*  Vana-parva,  V.  15-932.  *  Ibid.,  v.   I136,   I145,   1173. 

*  Ibid.,  V.  159-33.  «  Ibid.,  V.  1223,  1224. 
■  Karna-parva,  v.  1558— 1562.  '  Ibid.,  v.  12S5. 

*  Bhishma-parva,  v.  999,  1000.  "  Ibid.,  v.  12^7. 

•  Ibid.,  V,  2990. 


BRAHAIANISM.  219 


with  him.  "  He  about  whom  thou  dost  ask  me,  the  leader 
of  the  holy  armies,  is  the  eternal  god,  (J^iva  himself."  ^ 
He  has  made  himself  the  son  of  an  earthly  king  in  order 
to  crush  the  enemies  of  the  holy  race.  The  great  god 
mounted  in  the  chariot  of  the  world,  with  the  four  Vedas 
for  steeds,  and  by  whose  dart  the  Asuras  have  been 
pierced  through,  has  made  himself  upon  earth  the  driver 
of  the  war-chariot  of  the  Pandus.^  "  Thanks  to  his 
valour,  the  heaps  of  slain  foes  are  like  high  mountains 
upheaved  from  their  foundations,  with  their  trees,  their 
rocks  and  flowers.  There  lie  great  elephants  wounded, 
bellowing  and  bleeding.  Beside  them  are  the  corpses 
of  heroes,  and  the  ground  is  covered  with  the  slain  like 
the  sinuous  trail  of  a  serpent."  ^ 

This  allusion  to  the  serpent  carries  us  back  to  the 
cosmical  idea  of  the  eternal  conflict  between  darkness 
and  light  which  is  always  in  the  background  of  these 
battles  between  the  holy  race  and  its  foes.  The  victorious 
people  know  well  that  he  in  whom  they  triumph  is  not 
a  human  hero,  but  a  son  of  god  who  has  put  the  battalions 
of  the  enemy  to  flight.  They  see  in  him  the  adorable 
lord  of  the  universe,  with  the  power  of  three  worlds  at 
command,  sending  forth  his  arrows."* 

Has  the  Indian  religion  really  gained  anything  by  this 
incarnation  of  the  supreme  god  ?  Has  he  thus  become 
more  real,  more  living  ?  We  think  not.  In  his  earthly 
manifestation,  he  is  after  all  only  a  changing  form 
of  the  hidden,  invisible,  immutable  god.  This  changing 
form  seems  to  have  gained  a  certain  individuality,  by 
becoming  human,  but  it  is  only  a  semblance,  just  because 
it  is  changing,  and  to-morrow  some  other  form  equally 
evanescent  will  take  its  place.  We  never  for  a  moment 
arrive  at  a  distinct  moral  personality.  It  eludes  us  just 
as  we  are  about  to  approach  it.  Man  cannot  unite  himself 
truly  to  this  impalpable  divinity ;  he  can  no  more  grasp 
it  than  the  hand  can  grasp  water.  His  own  personality 
is  after  all  only  a  semblance ;  it  also  is  but  a  changing 
form  of  the  one  substance  in  which  all  individuality  is 
absorbed.     Hence  the  hope  of  immortality,  after  being 

'  Bhishma-parva,  v.  3009.  '  Ibid.,  v.  4S98,  4906. 

*  Karna-parva,  v.  1524,  1525.  *  Ibid.,  v.  1568. 


220    THE  ANCIEN7   WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

admirably  expressed,  ends  in  mere  absorption,  as  in  this 
significant  passage  of  the  Mahabharata :  "  Just  as  in 
the  present  lixC,  we  pass  first  through  childhood,  then 
maturity,  then  old  age,  so  death  gives  us  another  body. 
Thus  the  Vvdse  man  does  not  trouble  himself.  The  arrows 
cannot  pierce  the  soul,  nor  the  fire  burn  it,  nor  the  waters 
drown,  nor  the  winds  dry  it  up ;  it  is  imperishable.  It  is 
not  born  ;  it  dees  not  die  ;  it  is  eternal."  ^  What  does 
this  mean  but  that  the  soul  is  only  an  ephemeral  mani- 
festation of  the  one  substance  ?  Thus,  at  death  it  puts 
on  a  new  body  like  a  garment,  and  enters  the  vortex  of 
metamorphoses,  unless  it  has  attained  here  below  by 
sacred  science  to  the  ineffable  union  with  Brahma. 

It  follows  that  the  Messiah  of  the  Indian  epic  is 
not  a  true  deliverer  since  he  is  not  a  real  person.  Hence 
his  v/ork  has  not  the  character  of  a  true  redemption.  It 
is  a  system  of  magic  in  which  there  is  no  distinction 
between  the  natural  and  the  supernatural.  This  divine 
magic  is  constantly  intervening  in  the  life  of  nature  and 
of  man  ;  indeed  it  is  itself  an  element  in  the  law  of  per- 
petual transformation.  It  bears  no  resemblance  to  the 
intervention  of  a  free  Being  for  the  reparation  of  wrong 
in  the  world.  In  fact,  there  is  nothing  wrong.  We  have 
simply  the  repetition  upon  earth  of  the  cosmic  struggles 
going  on  under  the  laws  of  fatality.  The  free  action  of 
man  is  distinctly  denied.  When  he  does  not  obey  the 
will  of  a  master,  he  is  governed  by  some  antecedent 
necessity  in  his  life.  He  feels  himself  to  be  the  toy 
of  an  unknown  power,  and  he  is  in  reality  only  one 
of  the  transitory  modes  of  the  universal  life.  There  is 
but  one  thing  for  him  to  do,  namely  to  aspire  to  lose 
himself  in  the  infinite,  and  to  extinguish  those  restless 
desires,  the  tendency  of  which  is  to  reinforce  the  indivi- 
dual fife.  Hence  we  do  not  wonder  when  in  the  midst 
of  these  martial  strains,  at  a  moment  when  it  would  seem 
as  if  there  was  everything  to  stir  the  pulses  of  action, 
we  find  a  strange  disgust  with  life  which  becomes  the 
keynote  of  Buddhism.  There  must  be  a  drawing  back 
from  outward    things,  as  the    tortoise  shrinks  back    into 


'  Bliishma-parva,  v.  1157. 


BRA  HMA  NISM.  221 


its  shell,  that  the  mind  may  be  wholly  absorbed  in  the 
contemplation  of  the  absolute  Being.  The  final  stage  is 
one  of  complete  passivity,  all  action  is  left  behind,  even 
desire  is  dead/  This  brings  us  to  the  verge  of 
Buddhism.^ 

'  See  the  first  part  of  the  Bhishma-parva,  v.  11 78. 

^  The  same  conclusions  are  arrived  at  in  the  Ramaj'ana,  which  is  more 
tender  and  human  in  its  strains  than  the  Mababharata.  We  find  there 
the  same  incarnation  of  the  supreme  god  with  perhaps  a  fuller  par- 
ticipation in  the  afi'ections  and  sorrows  of  our  human  life  ;  the  same 
victorious  conflicts,  symbolising  cosmical  crises  ;  and  the  same  ascetic 
pantheism  underlying  the  whole  conception  of  things.  The  Bhagavata 
Purana,  translated  by  Burnouf,  is  of  much  later  date,  and  treats  of 
nature  as  a  lying  illusion.  It  is  the  seductive  Maj'a,  the  false  courtesan, 
whose  eyes  are  like  stars,  and  whose  magic  spells  fill  the  world  with 
trouble.  She  represents  material  life  with  its  miseries  and  the  bondage  of 
the  creature.  The  soul  is  attacked  by  the  five  senses  as  by  five  brigands 
in  the  forest  of  existence.  The  purpose  of  Vishnu  in  his  incarnations, 
in  which  he  changes  his  appearance  like  an  actor  in  a  masquerade,  is 
to  free  us  from  this  material  life.  He  has  taken  it  upon  himself  as  one 
may  use  one  thorn  to  extract  another.  This  is  Buddhism  in  its  essence. 
All  that  is  wanting  now  is  the  legend  and  the  name  of  Cakyamuni. 


CHAPTER  III. 

BUDDHA} 

BUDDHISM  is  the  last  term  in  the  logical  develop- 
ment of  the  religion  of  India,  though  Brahmanism 
has  never  ceased  to  exist  side  by  side  with  it  ;  and  has 
even  in  the  end,  expelled  it  from  the  land  which  was  its 
cradle,  while  leaving  it  in  possession  of  a  great  part  of 
the  Oriental  world.  The  religion  of  Buddha  is  only  the 
gradual  development  of  the  dominant  idea  of  the  national 
cultus,  under  the  combined  influence  of  an  ascetic  piety, 
and  a  subtle  and  profound  system  of  metaphysics.  The 
nihilism  which  is  its  final  utterance,  really  underlies  all 
naturism  even  when  it  assumes  the  brilliant  garb  of  the 
Vedic  poetry.  To  seek  in  nature  the  Divine  Absolute, 
is  to  enquire  of  her  for  that  which  she  has  not  to  give ;  it 
is  a  quest  that  can  but  end  in  disappointment,  for  all  that 
is  simply  natural  fades  and  perishes.  The  ephemeral 
life  of  nature,  is  in  comparison  with  that  which  the  soul 


'  It  is  not  possible  to  take  in  a  note  even  the  most  cursory  glance  at  the 
literature  on  this  subject.  I  shall  merely  indicate  the  books  to  which 
I  refer  most  frequently.  Max  Mi'tller,  "  Chips  from  a  German  Workshop," 
vols.  i.  ii.  Burnonf,  "Introduction  a  I'histoire  du  Buddhisme  Indien," 
1848.  Barth,  "The  Religions  of  India."  Barthelcuiy  St.  Hilaire,  "  Le 
Buddhisme  et  sa  religion,"  1862.  Se'iiart,  "  Essai  sur  la  religion  de  Buddha, 
son  caractere  et  ses  origines,"  1875-  "Non-Christian  Religious  Systems. 
Buddhism,"  by  F.  W.  Rhys  Davids,  London,  1882,  an  excellent  resume 
taken  from  many  sources.  "History  of  Buddhism.  Cakyamuni,"  by  Mrs. 
Mary  Summer,  with  preface  and  index  by  MM.  Ed.  Foucaux  and  Ernest 
Leroux,  1874.  We  must  also  mention  as  most  valuable,  the  delineation 
of  Buddhism  given  by  M.  Renan  in  his  new  "  Etudes  d'iiiitoire  reli- 
gieuse,"  18S4.  "Le  Buddhisme  et  le  Qhx'xiX^hy  Alfred Porret,\s^.•!\  eloquent 
parallel  drawn  between  the  two  Messiahs.  On  the  modern  developrrent 
of  Buddhism,  see  "Manual  of  Buddhism  in  its  modern  development," 
translated  from  Singhalese  MSB.  by  R.  Spence  Hardy,  1853.  The 
papers  on  Buddhism  by  M.  L.  Feer,  in  the  Asiatic  Journal,  aie  of  great 
interest.     See  also  Oldenber^,  "  Buddhism." 


BUDDHA.  2  2,3 

athirst  for  the  infinite,  seeks  in  her,  as  empty  nothing- 
ness. This  changing,  perishable  being,  ever  loolving  forth 
with  a  new  face  from  its  successive  metamorphoses,  is 
equivalent  to  not-being.  We  have  seen  Brahmanism 
removing  out  of  their  place  the  gods  of  light,  of  quickening 
and  consuming  fire,  and  lastly  the  god  of  the  eternal 
conflict,  the  valiant  Indra,  and  substituting  for  them 
the  silent,  inert  Brahma,  the  ineffable  One,  in  whom  all 
individual  life  is  to  be  absorbed  by  means  of  asceticism  and 
contemplation,  after  passing  through  the  final  ordeals  of 
metempsychosis  which  only  prolong  its  agitation  to  no  pur- 
pose. Nothing  could  be  a  more  hopeless  prospect  than  tliis 
of  the  mysterious  absorption  of  being  in  the  infinite,  which 
is  not  even  annihilation.  Moreover,  before  arriving  at  this 
submergence  in  the  dark  and  fathomless  path  of  asceti- 
cism and  contemplation  by  the  abyss,  the  worshipper  of 
Brahma  is  plunged  into  the  vortex  of  life  on  earth,  as 
the  head  of  a  family  bearing  his  part  in  the  turmoil  and 
suffering  incident  to  such  a  lot.  If  tliese  v'aried  exercises 
were  designed,  as  in  the  religions  of  Egypt  and  Persia, 
to  prepare  him  for  a  blissful  eternity,  there  would  be 
a  counterbalancing  good.  But  it  is  not  so.  Men  are  like 
the  ephemera  that  sport  for  a  moment  in  the  rays  of  the 
sun,  only  to  die  of  inanition  with  the  first  chills  of  evening. 
Life  is  thus  deprived  of  all  end  and  aim,  and  is  only  one 
long  abnegation  of  that  which  for  an  instant  it  has  been 
permitted  to  enjoy.  We  can  well  understand  then  how  it 
should  come  to  be  regarded  as  an  evil  in  itself,  an  evil 
without  a  remedy ;  and  how  the  only  gospel  for  such  a 
people  to  whom  existence  v/as  a  curse,  would  be  the  gospel 
of  annihilation. 

This  was  what  Buddha  proclaimed  to  a  race  sick  to 
death  of  the  ill  of  living.  If  he  liad  been  content  to 
preach  annihilation  under  the  form  of  a  cold  and  abstract 
metaphysical  doctrine,  he  would  not  have  found  the  way 
to  the  hearts  of  the  people,  and  held  thousands  of  disciples 
hanging  on  his  lips,  disciples  who  in  their  turn  were  to 
win  over  whole  nations.  But  his  teaching  was  first  of 
all  a  life.  He  was  in  his  own  person  an  incarnation  of 
his  doctrine;  it  was  kindled  at  the  flame  of  his  loving 
heart ;  it  w*as  realised   in  his  life   of  purity  and   devo- 


2  24    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY, 

tion,  for  he  lived  out  the  ideal  which  he  set  up.  It  is 
vain  to  attempt  to  reduce  him  to  a  mere  personification 
of  the  old  solar  myths.  One  feels  that  the  vast  move- 
ment which  bears  his  name,  must  have  originated  in  a 
personal  influence,  in  a  true  type  of  humanity,  who 
could  speak  to  the  heart,  and  whose  image,  full  of  moral 
beauty,  stands  forth  in  relief  against  the  phantasmagoria 
of  a  complicated  and  often  absurd  mythology.  However 
delusive  in  the  end  the  consolation  he  brought,  it  was 
a  great  thing  to  have  possessed  the  consoler  himself, 
to  have  seen  and  heard  him,  or  at  least,  to  know  that 
he  had  been  seen  and  heard,  that  he  had  trodden  with 
his  own  feet  the  rough  ways  of  human  life.  He  responded 
to  the  universal  heart-felt  cry  of  humanity  for  a  deliverer 
who  should  come  near  to  it,  one  who  should  weep  its 
tears  and  bear  its  burdens.  There  had  been  an  attempt 
to  meet  this  same  need  in  the  religious  movement  of 
which  the  great  Indian  poems  are  the  expression. 
Vishnu  and  (^iva  were  made  to  descend  from  the  heights 
of  heaven  to  do  heroic  battle  as  men  against  the  enemies 
of  the  holy  race.  But  they  bore  too  close  a  resemblance 
to  their  worshippers,  being  subject  like  them  to  all  the 
impulses  of  passion.  Their  only  weapons  were  the 
vulgar  arts  of  magic,  which  astonished  without  elevating 
the  soul.  Buddha,  who  is  of  humbler  origin,  since  at 
least  in  the  primitive  form  of  the  tradition  concerning 
him,  he  is  but  an  ordinary  man,  is  endowed  nevertheless 
with  moral  excellence  which  assures  to  him  a  far  greater 
power  over  hearts.  He  is  at  once  nearer  to  man  and 
more  exalted.  This  moral  excellence  comes  out  not  only 
in  his  unsullied  purity,  but  also  and  above  all  in  the  spirit 
of  his  life  and  work,  which  was  always  that  of  the  most 
tender  charity  towards  all  living  beings.  To  him  may  be 
applied  the  description  of  One  greater  than  he  :  he  was 
truly  a  man  "  moved  with  compassion."  The  philosophical 
outcome  of  his  teaching  is  indeed  dark  and  hopeless,  since 
it  consists  in  representing  being  as  in  itself  an  evil ;  but 
if  the  moral  inspiration  of  a  doctrine  be  high  and  holy, 
it  can  outweigh  mistake  and  error.  Thus  the  terrible 
doctrine  of  predestination  in  the  sixteenth  century  pro- 
duced admirable  results,  because  the  inspiration  of  this 


BUDDHA.  225 

stern  system  was  the  ardent  desire  to  reassert  the 
sovereignty  of  God  as  opposed  to  the  insolent  pretensions 
of  the  creature.  In  Hke  manner,  doctrine  of  despair 
though  Buddhism  was,  the  charity  which  animated  its 
founder,  conjured,  at  least  in  part,  its  evil  influence,  and 
won  for  him  a  great  following  of  the  suffering  and  the 
despised.  How  could  these  but  rally  round  a  master, 
who,  without  violently  breaking  the  barriers  of  caste, 
practically  overstepped  them,  and  addressed  himself  to 
every  man  as  a  brother,  to  whom  he  brought  a  word  of 
deliverance  ?  Mournful  as  was  theburden  of  this  doctrine, 
it  at  least  recognised  the  equality  of  men. 

Nothing  could  be  less  revolutionary  than  the  teaching 
of  Buddha,  in  its  original  form.  He  connected  it  closely 
with  the  past,  only  breaking  the  husk  which  enclosed  the 
fruit,  not  snapping  the  branches  which  bore  it ;  for  this 
divine  fruit  had  ripened  well  upon  the  great  tree  of  the 
religion  of  his  forefathers,  beneath  which  so  many  genera- 
tions had  found  shelter.  Buddha  did  not  smite  it  with  the 
hatchet ;  the  severance  came  later. 

In  the  history  of  Buddhism  we  must  carefully  distin- 
guish the  early  times  when  everything  came  under  the 
teaching  and  personal  influence  of  the  master,  from  its 
later  developments.  We  find  in  this  period  all  the  cha- 
racteristic traits  of  Buddhism,  but  its  metaphysical  system, 
though  already  formulated,  is  presented  only  in  a  poetic 
garb.  Over  it  is  thrown  a  veil  woven  of  the  fair  flowers 
of  parable.  It  is  not  possible  indeed  at  any  stage  in  the 
history  of  Buddism  to  free  it  entirely  from  the  legendary 
element,  and  so  to  determine  exactly  what  comes  from 
Buddha  himself.  But  this  is  of  little  moment.  The  legend, 
at  least  in  its  early  development,  does  not  distort  his 
physiognomy  or  his  doctrine.  It  belongs  to  the  primi- 
tive Buddhism  of  the  creative  period  which  went  far 
beyond  the  life  of  the  master.  The  legend  gives  the 
impression  produced  by  him,  and  forms  an  essential  part 
of  this  great  religious  movement.  Even  in  much  later 
times,  we  trace  in  the  developments  of  this  legend  (when- 
ever they  are  not  mere  travesties),  clear  indications  of 
genuineness,  and  we  may  safely  accept  it  as  an  illustration 
of  the  true  Buddhist  doctrine.     It  is  of  great  importance 

15 


226    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRIS7IANITY. 

to  distinguish  between  this  doctrine  and  the  mythological 
accretions  by  which  it  was  soon  overlaid ;  as  also  that 
we  should  not  confound  its  first  purely  secular  realisation, 
with  the  monastic  institution  which  both  consolidated  and 
narrowed  it.  We  must  be  careful  moreover,  not  to  assign 
to  the  time  of  its  origin,  the  constitution  of  Buddhism 
into  a  state  religion  under  Agoka,  although  this  was  the 
most  generous  and  liberal  of  state  religions.  It  would 
be  as  great  a  mistake  to  identify  the  Buddhism  of 
Buddha  with  that  which  became  a  state  religion  four 
centuries  before  Christ,  as  it  would  be  to  confound  the 
gospel  of  Jesus  Himself  with  the  doctrine  of  the  great 
councils  of  the  fourth  century.  With  these  reservations, 
let  us  proceed  to  derive  from  the  texts,  some  idea  of 
primitive  Buddhism. 

§  I, — Primitive  Buddhism.^ 

I.  Buddha  was  born  at  Kapilavastu,  the  capital  of  the 
kingdom  of  that  name,  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains  of 
Nepaul.  His  father,  the  king  of  Kapilavastu,  was  one  of 
the  family  of  the  Sakyas,  and  belonged  to  the  clan  of  the 
Gautamas.     "  His  mother  was  Mayadevi  the  daughter  of 

'  The  principal  authorities  on  Buddhism  are  the  following: 

1.  Southern  authorities:  The  Pitakas  or  collections  which  are  sup- 
posed to  have  formed  part  of  the  Canon  fixed  at  the  council  of  Patna 
under  A9oka,  260  b.c,  which  presupposes  a  much  earlier  date  for  the 
writings  composing  them. 

2.  Northern  sources  :  The  principal  are  the  Lalita-Vistara,  translated 
from  the  Sanscrit  by  M.  Foucaux  ("Musee  Guimet,  tome  vi.  Paris ; 
Ernest  I  eroux,  1884).  As  a  Chinese  translation  of  the  Lalita-vistara 
was  in  existence  in  the  first  century  a.d.  its  composition  may  be 
assigned  to  a  3^et  earlier  date.  We  take  most  of  our  quotations  from 
the  Lalita-vistara,  the  "Lotus  de  la  bonne  loi,"  translated  by  Burnouf 
(Paris,  1S85)  which  also  forms  part  of  the  sacred  books  of  the  North. 
For  the  biography  of  Buddha,  as  far  as  it  can  be  freed  from  the  o\er- 
growth  of  legend,  I  have  availed  myself  largely  of  Mr.  David's  excellent 
re'siiine,  which  seems  to  make  a  judicious  selection  among  the  more  ancient 
Siitras.  Here  internal  evidence  pla3'S  a  legitimate  part.  The  simplest 
is  obviously  the  oldest. 

We  may  refer  lastly  to  the  "  Sept  Suttas  Palis  tires  du  Digha-Nikaya," 
M.  P.  Grimblot.  (Paris:  Imprimerie  Nationale,  1871).  This  gives  a 
confirmation  of  the  atheism  of  Buddha,  and  of  his  negation  of  all 
immortality,  especially  in  the  Brahma-Jala-Sutta,  which  contains  a  sort 
of  excommunication  of  the  Brahmanic  doctrines  on  these  two  points. 
(Se^  the  Introduction  by  M.  Gogerly.) 


BUDDHA.  227 

king  Suprabuddha.  Buddha  was  therefore  by  birth  of 
the  Kshatriya  or  warrior  caste,  and  he  took  the  name  of 
Sakya  from  his  family  and  that  of  Gautama  from  his 
clan."  ^  He  was  subsequently  called  ;-)iddhartha  (he  whose 
objects  have  been  accomplished).  Endowed  with  all  the 
gifts  of  genius  and  physical  beauty,  lie  easily  outstripped 
all  his  comrades  and  even  his  masters  in  feats  of  bodily 
and  intellectual  strength. 

But  from  his  childhood  he  was  possessed  by  a  deep 
melancholy  from  which  nothing  could  divert  him.  Those 
around  could  see  no  cause  for  it,  but  it  was  in  truth  the 
sorrow  of  the  world,  the  insoluble  problem  of  life  which 
was  weighing  on  his  soul.  In  the  hope  of  turning  the 
current  of  his  thoughts,  he  was  married  to  the  beautiful 
Gopa,  the  daughter  of  Dandapam.  The  marriage  proved 
one  of  the  happiest,  but  Buddha  remained  as  he  had  been 
before,  absorbed  in  meditation  on  the  problems  of  life 
and  death.  "  Nothing  is  stable  on  earth,"  he  used  to  say, 
**  nothing  is  real.  Life  is  like  the  spark  produced  by  the 
friction  of  wood.  It  is  lighted  and  it  is  extinguished — 
we  know  not  whence  it  came  or  waither  it  goes.  It  is 
like  the  sound  of  a  lyre,  and  the  wise  man  asks  in  vain 
from  whence  it  came  and  whither  it  goes.  There  must  be 
some  supreme  intelligence  where  we  could  find  rest.  If  I 
attained  it,  I  could  bring  light  to  man  ;  if  I  were  free  myself, 
I  could  deliver  the  world."  ^  The  kirg,  who  perceived  the 
melancholy  mood  of  the  young  prince,  tried  everything  to 
divert  him  from  his  speculations,  but  all  was  in  vain. 

At  length  the  decisive  day  came.  One  morning, 
when  the  young  prince  with  a  large  retinue  was  driving 
through  the  eastern  gate  of  the  city,  he  met  on  the  road 
an  old  man,  broken  and  decrepit.  One  could  see  the 
veins  and  muscles  over  the  whole  of  his  body,  his  teeth 
chattered,  he  was  covered  with  wrinkles,  bald,  and  hardly 
able  to  utter  hollow  and  unmelodioas  sounds.  He  was 
bent  on  his  stick,  and  all  his  limbs  and  joints  trembled. 
"  Who  is  that  man?"  said  the  prince  to  his  coachman. 
"  He  is  small  and  weak,  his  flesh  and  his  blood  are  dried 

'  Max  Miiller,  "Chips  from  a  German  Wo.kshop,  vol.  i.  p.  210. 
'■*  Ibid.,  pp.  210,  211. 


2i8     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

up,  his  muscles  stick  to  his  skin,  his  head  is  white,  his 
teeth  chatter,  his  body  is  wasted  away ;  leaning  on  his 
stick  he  is  barely  able  to  walk,  stumbling  at  every  step. 
Is  there  something  peculiar  in  his  family,  or  is  this  the 
common  lot  of  all  created  beings  ?  " 

"  Sir,"  replied  the  coachman,  "  that  man  is  sinking 
under  old  age.  His  senses  have  become  obtuse,  suffering 
has  destroyed  his  strength,  and  he  is  despised  by  his 
relations.  He  is  without  support  and  useless,  and  people 
have  abandoned  him,  like  a  dead  tree  in  a  forest.  But 
this  is  not  peculiar  to  his  family.  In  every  creature, 
youth  is  defeated  by  old  age.  Your  father,  your  mother, 
all  your  relations,  all  your  friends,  will  come  to  the 
same  state.     This  is  the  appointed  end  of  all  creatures." 

"Alas  !"  replied  the  prince,  "  are  creatures  so  ignorant, 
so  weak  and  foolish,  as  to  be  proud  of  the  youth  by  which 
they  are  intoxicated,  not  seeing  the  old  age  which  awaits 
them.  As  forme,  I  go  away.  Coachman,  turn  my  chariot 
quickl}'.  What  have  I,  the  future  prey  of  old  age,  what 
have  I  tc  do  with  pleasure  ? "  And  the  young  prince 
returned  to  the  city,  without  going  to  his  park.^ 

Twice  more  he  drove  out  in  his  chariot,  only  to  en- 
counter on  each  occasion,  some  wretched,  suffering  fellow- 
creature.  The  first  was  a  man  at  the  point  of  death, 
parched  and  wasted  with  fever.  "Alas!"  exclaims 
Euddha,  "health  is  but  the  sport  of  a  dream,  and  the 
fear  of  suffering  must  take  this  frightful  form.  Where 
is  the  wise  man  who,  after  having  seen  what  he  is,  could 
any  longer  think  of  joy  or  pleasure  ?  " 

The  next  time  as  he  was  driving  to  his  pleasure  garden 
through  the  western  gate,  the  prince  saw  a  dead  body 
on  the  road,  lying  on  a  bier,  covered  with  a  cloth.  The 
friendj  stood  about  crying,  sobbing,  tearing  their  hair, 
covering  their  heads  with  dust,  striking  their  breasts,  and 
uttering  wild  cries.  The  prince  again  calling  his  coach- 
man to  witness  this  painful  scene,  exclaimed  :  "  Oh  !  woe 
to  3'outh,  which  must  be  destroyed  by  old  age  !  Woe  to 
health  which  must  be  destroyed  by  so  many  diseases ! 
Wee  to  this  life,  where  a  man  remains  so  short  a  time ! 


'  "  Chips  from  a  German  Workshop,"  vol.  i.  pp.  211,  212, 


BUDDHA.  229 

If  there  were  no  old  age,  no  disease,  no  death  ;  if  these 
could  be  made  captive  for  ever!"  Then  betraying  for 
the  first  time  his  intentions,  the  young  prince  said  :  "  Let 
us  turn  back,  I  must  tl.ink  how  to  accomplish  deliverance." 

A  last  meeting  put  an  end  to  his  hesitation.  He  was 
driving  through  the  noithern  gate  on  the  way  to  his 
pleasure  gardens,  when  he  saw  a  mendicant,  who  appeared 
outwardly  calm,  subdued,  looking  downwards,  wearing 
with  an  air  of  dignity  his  religious  vestment,  and  carrying 
an  alms-bowl. 

"Who  is  this  man  ?"  asked  the  prince. 

"  Sir,"  replied  the  coachman,  "  this  man  is  one  of  those 
who  are  called  blikshus  or  niendicants.  He  has 
renounced  all  pleasures,  all  desires,  and  leads  a  life  of 
austerity.  He  tries  to  conquer  himself.  He  has  become 
a  devotee.  Without  passion,  without  envy,  he  walks  about 
asking  for  alms." 

"This  is  good  and  well  said,"  replied  the  prince.  "The 
life  of  a  devotee  has  always  been  praised  by  the  wise.  It 
will  be  my  refuge,  and  the  refuge  of  other  creatures ;  it 
will  lead  us  to  a  real  life,  to  happiness  and  immortality." 

With  these  words  the  young  prince  turned  his  chariot, 
and  returned  to  the  city.^ 

His  resolution  was  taken — kingdom,  glory,  power, 
wife,  all  must  be  abandoned,  while  he  shut  himself  up  to 
lead  in  solitude  the  life  of  an  ascetic. 

So  far  he  had  not  gone  in  practice  beyond  the  ideal  of 
the  Brahmans,  who  looked  upon  the  life  of  the  anchorite 
as  the  final  goal  to  be  reached.  But  he  had  already  risen 
to  a  much  fuller  and  higher  conception  of  the  religious  life 
than  theirs.  He  saw  more  clearly  than  any  before  him, 
the  intensely  sorrowful  side  of  life.  To  him  it  appeared 
indeed  only  as  a  transparent  veil  cast  over  the  death  to 
which  it  leads,  and  which  is  therefore  the  only  abiding 
reality.  Hence  he  was  not  long  satisfied  with  the  teaching 
the  Brahmans  had  to  give  him  either  at  Vaisati  or  at 
Rajagriha.  Having  learnt  all  that  the  most  illustrious 
Brahmans  of  the  day  could  impart,  he  went  away  dis- 
appointed.     In  leaving  them  he  still  adhered  to  his  faith 

'   "  Chips  frcm  a  German  Worksliop,"  vol.  i.  pp.  213,  214.     The  whole 
cf  this  narrative  is  given  in  the  Lalita-vistara,"'  c.  xiv. 


230     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

in  the  virtue  of  asceticism,  but  he  soon  discovered  that  this 
also  was  vanity,  at  least  under  the  idea  then  entertained 
of  it ;  for  it  was  supposed  to  be  a  means  of  acquiring 
merit  and  power  over  outward  things.  Buddha  felt  that 
he  must  go  further  than  this  in  self-renunciation.  He 
therefore  gave  up  his  exercises,  and  was  at  once  deserted 
as  an  apostate  by  his  five  remaining  disciples.  He  now 
began  to  elaborate  his  own  system.  Lost  in  deep  medita- 
tion, he  descended  every  step  in  the  ladder  of  existence, 
till  he  reached  the  point  where  it  is  lost  in  the  darkness 
of  the  absolute  void.  To  him  the  supreme  deliverance 
seemed  to  be  the  conviction  that  nothing  has  any  reality  ; 
that  gods,  men,  all  beings  in  heaven  and  earth,  are  but  a 
vain  show,  the  foam  upon  the  wave.  Henceforward,  in 
order  to  attain  to  salvation,  existence  must  be  regarded  as  a 
fatal  illusion  ;  nay  more,  the  very  consciousness  that  it  is 
so  must  be  lost  in  the  utter  vacuum  of  absolute  annihi- 
lation. It  was  from  the  moment  when  he  arrived  at 
this  knowledge  that  he  claimed  the  name  of  Buddha,  the 
Enlightened  ;  for  he  was  about,  by  his  teaching,  to  illumi- 
nate in  some  sort  the  vasty  deep  in  which  all  existence 
revolves,  but  of  which  man  must  become  conscious,  in 
order  to  escape  from  the  mirage  of  this  mortal  life.  "  The 
union  of  the  three  worlds  is  destroyed  as  by  fire,  through 
the  pangs  of  sickness  and  old  age.  The  world  having  no 
protection,  is  consumed  by  the  fire  of  death.  The  creature 
does  not  flee  to  save  himself;  in  his  infatuation  he  only 
buzzes  about  like  a  bee  in  a  bottle  ! "  This  is  the  revela- 
tion of  which  Buddha  was  the  apostle. 

Before  entering  on  this  strange  mission,  he  had  to  pass 
through  a  supreme  moral  conflict  under  the  tree  of  temp- 
tation— the  mystical  fig-tree  which  was  to  play  so 
important  a  part  in  the  Buddhist  mythology  of  later  days. 
Under  the  name  of  the  Bo-tree  or  tree  of  wisdom,  it 
became  to  Buddha  that  which  the  cross  is  to  Christians. 
In  this  solemn  and  crucial  vigil,  he  was  assailed  by  all  the 
memories  of  his  brilliant  youth.  The  prestige  of  his 
royalty,  the  smiles  and  caresses  of  fair  women,  all  that 
life  has  to  offer  of  glory  and  pleasure,  passed  before  him 
in  a  delicious  and  alluring  dream.  All  day  he  battled  with 
the  false  enchantment,  and  when  night  fell  he  was  vie- 


BUDDHA. 


231 


torious.  "  He  had  grasped,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  the 
solution  of  the  mystery  of  suffering,  and  had  learned  at 
once  its  causes  and  its  cure.  He  seemed  to  have  gained 
the  haven  of  peace,  and  in  the  power  over  the  human 
heart,  of  inward  culture,  and  of  love  to  others,  to  rest  at 
last  on  a  certitude  that  could  never  be  shaken."  * 
He  said : 

"  I  now  desire  to  turn  the  wheel  of  the  excellent  law, 
For  this  purpose  I  am  going  to  the  city  of  Benares, 
To  give  light  to  those  enshrouded  in  darkness, 
And  to  open  the  gates  of  immortality  to  men."  - 

In  this  desire  to  comfort  and  deliver,  this  vast  pity  for 
all  suffering  existence,  this  burning   charity,  lay,  as  we 
have  already  said,  the  secret  of  Buddha's  power.     In  this 
the  genius  of  his  heart  comes  out  as  much  greater  than 
that  of  his  head.     His  absolute  pessimism  and  boundless 
nihilism    might   easily    have    led    to    selfishness    and    in- 
difference to  the  sorrows  of  others.     He  might  well  have 
said :  Of  what   avail   is   it   to    concern    myself  for    these 
m3'riads  of  insignificant  beings,  who    only  appear    for  a 
few    short    moments    on    the  illusive   surface  of   things  ?  . 
The  life  of  the  world  is  but  a  lightning  flash  in  an  unend-  i 
ing  night.     Why  not  leave  men   to  their  brief  illusion  ? 
It  will  soon  be  over,  after  giving  as  much  joy  as  sorrow 
to  those  who  are  deluded  by  it.     Such  is  most  frequently  ] 
the  conclusion  of  our  Western  pessimsm,  but  such  was   ' 
not    Buddha's.      Heart-struck    with    the   horrors    of  our 
wretched    existence,    he    could    not    leave    his    brethren 
a  prey  to  its  cruel  deception.     If  he  could  not  draw  his 
pitying  love  from  any  higher  source,  since  he  recognised 
no  great  First  Cause  of  being,  he  drew  it   from  his  own 
full  heart.     He  was  fired  with  an  earnest  desire  to  enlighten 
the  ignorant  of  all    classes.      He  was  not  satisfied    with 
imparting  to  them  his  doctrine,  although   he  himself  had 
found  in  it  the  secret  of  deliverance.     He  had  proved  by 
experiment  the  futility  of  a  stern,  pitiless  ascetism  ;  and  he 
had  compassion  on  the  poor,  the  lowly,  and  the  suffering. 
This  compassion  is  explained  even  from  his  own  peculiar 
point  of  view.     As  every  evil  comes  from  the  conscious- 

'  "Buddhism,"  p.  40.  *  Ibid.,  p.  43. 


232     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

ness  of  existence,  and  as  suffering,  no  less  than  pleasure, 
stimulates  this  consciousness,  everything  must  be  done 
to  soothe  it  to  rest,  as  the  surest  way  to  lessen  the  woes 
of  mankind.  Thus  this  apostle  of  annihilation  was  the 
gentlest,  the  most  kindhearted  of  masters,  even  devoting 
himself  by  preference  to  the  classes  that  had  so  long 
endured  the  cruel  contempt  of  the  Brahmans.  It  must 
not  be  supposed  that  he  repelled  those  who  came  to  him  - 
by  presenting  to  them  abruptly  the  sternest  aspects  of 
his  doctrine.  He  imparted  his  teaching  in  poetic  form, 
so  as  to  make  it  popular  before  he  showed  what  were 
the  ultimate  issues  involved  in  it.  The  enchantment 
of  his  tender  and  humane  teaching  is  poetically  described 
in  the  following  passage  taken  from  one  of  the  Sutras  of 
the  following  age  :  "  The  evening  was  like  a  lovely  maiden  ; 
the  stars  were  the  pearls  upon  her  neck,  the  dark  clouds 
her  braided  hair,  the  deepening  space  her  flowing  robe. 
As  a  crown  she  had  the  heavens  where  the  angels  dwell ; 
these  three  worlds  were  as  her  body ;  her  eyes  were  the 
white  lotus  flowers,  which  open  to  the  rising  moon  ;  and 
her  voice  was,  as  it  were,  the  humming  of  bees.  To 
worship  the  Buddha,  and  to  hear  the  first  preaching  of 
the  vv'ord  this  lovely  maiden  came."  ^ 

This  initial  teaching  prepares  the  way  for  the  final 
deliverance,  by  teaching  man  to  escape  from  the  dominion 
of  the  senses  and  to  apprehend  the  "four  noble  truths 
with  which  his  enfranchisement  begins.  These  are  :  1st 
Suffering  or  sorrow.  Birth  causes  sorrow  ;  growth,  decay, 
illness,  death,  all  cause  sorrow  ;  separation  from  objects 
we  love,  hating  what  cannot  be  avoided,  and  craving  for 
tvkat  cannot  be  obtained,  cause  sorrow ;  briefly  such 
states  of  mind  as  co-exist  with  the  consciousness  of 
individuality,  with  the  sense  of  separate  existence,  are 
states  of  suffering  and  sorrow. 

"2nd.  The  cause  of  suffering.  The  action  of  the  outward 
world  on  the  senses  excites  a  craving  thirst  for  something 
to  satisfy  them,  or  a  delight  in  the  objects  presenting 
themselves,  either  of  which  is  accompanied  by  a  lust  of 
life.     These  are  the  causes  of  sorrow. 

'  Rhys  Davids,  "  Buddhism,"  p.  46. 


BUDDHA.  211 

"  3rd.  The  cessation  0/ sorrow.  The  complete  conquest 
over  and  destruction  of  this  eager  thirst,  this  lust  of  life, 
is  that  by  which  sorrow  ceases. 

"  4th.  The  path  leading  to  the  cessation  of  sorrow  is  the 
noble  eightfold  path  briefly  summed  up  in  the  description 
of  a  virtuous  life/ 

At  the  head  of  the  way  of  deliverance  stands  the 
"Middle  Path"  with  its  eight  steps:  "(i)  right  belief; 

(2)  right  feelings  ;  (3)  right  speech  ;  (4)  right  actions ;  _  (5) 
right  means  of  livelihood  ;  (6)  right  endeavour  ;  (7)  right 
memory  ;  (8)  right  meditation."  - 

By  meditation  man  enters  on  the  "  noble  path "  of 
deliverance,  which  terminates  in  his  exemption  from  all 
illusions.  This  end  is,  however,  only  attained  by  slow 
degrees  and  in  passing  through  four  stages  which  are, 
so  to  speak,  the  four  great  phases  of  the  spirit. 

First.  Conversion,  which  frees  us  (l)  from  the  delusion 
of  self;  (2)  from  doubt  as  to  the  Buddha  and  his  doctrines  ; 

(3)  from  the  belief  in  the  efficacy  of  rites  and  ceremonies. 
Better  than  universal  empire  in  this  world,  better  than 
going  to  heaven,  better  than  lordship  over  all  worlds  is 
this  (threefold)  fruit  of  the  first  Path."^ 

The  second  step  may  also  be  taken  by  those  who 
reserve  for  themselves  the  possibility  of  returning  to  the 
world. 

Second.  TJie  path  of  those  ivho  will  only  return  once  to  this 
ivorld.  The  converted  man  free  from  doubt  and  the 
delusions  of  self  and  ritualism,  succeeds  in  this  path,  in 
reducing  to  a  minimum,  lust,  hatred  and  delusion. 

Third.  The  path  of  those  who  zvill  never  return  to  this  world; 
in  which  the  last  remnants  of  sensuality  and  malevolence 
are  destroyed ;  not  the  least  low  desire  for  oneself  or 
wrong  feeling  towards  others  can  arise  in  the  heart. 

Fourth.  The  path  of  the  holy  ones,  more  exactly  worthy 
ones,  Arahats  ;  in  which  the  saint  becomes  free  from  desire 
for  material  or  immaterial  existence  ;  from  pride  and  self- 
righteousness  and  ignorance.*  He  is  now  free  from  all 
sin  ;  he  sees  and  estimates  all  things  in  this  life  at  their  true 
value.     Evil  desires  of  all  kinds  being  rooted  up  from  his 

«  Rhys  Davids,  "  Buddhism,"  p.  48.  ^  Ibid.,  p.  108. 

*  Ibid.,  p.  47.  *  Ibid.,  p.  108-9. 


234     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

mind,  he  only  experiences  right  desires  for  himself,  and 
tender  pity  and  regard  and  exalted  spiritual  love  for 
others.  "As  a  mot:ier,  even  at  the  risk  of  her  own  life, 
protects  her  son,  her  only  son  ;  so  let  there  be  good-will 
without  measure  am  jng  all  beings.  Let  good-will  without 
measure  prevail  in  the  whole  world,  above,  below,  around, 
unstinted,  unmixed  with  any  feeling  of  differing  or  oppos- 
ing interests.  If  a  man  remain  steadfastly  in  this  state 
of  mind  all  the  while  he  is  awake,  whether  he  be  standing, 
walking,  sitting  or  lying  down,  then  is  come  to  pass  this 
saying,  Even  in  this  world  holiness  has  been  found."  ^ 

This  state — the  Iiighest  attainable  in  this  life — leads 
to  Nirvana,  that  is,  to  the  extinction  of  all  trouble  in 
heart  or  mind,  consequently  the  extinction  of  being. 
It  is  the  indispensable  condition  of  that  extinction,  and 
is  really  indistinguishable  from  it,  for  its  essence  consists 
in  proving  for  oneself  that  nothing  exists.  To  recognise 
that  there  is  nothinr.^  is  to  sound  the  depth  of  things, 
to  enter  into  annihilation.  "  The  wise  man  finishes  by 
extinguishing  himself,  like  the  flame  of  a  lamp."^ 

All  this  teaching  cf  Buddha's  would  have  been  without 
significance  if  it  had  not  been  based  upon  a  metaphysical 
conception.  It  is  impossible  not  to  trace  back  to  him 
what  may  be  called  the  Buddhistic  philosophy,  at  least 
in  its  essential  elements;  otherwise  his  preaching  of 
annihilation  would  1  ave  no  meaning.  Nothing  can  be 
more  complicated  than  his  anthropology,  which  is  devoid 
of  all  moral  unity.  "  Man  consists  of  an  assemblage  of 
different  properties  or  qualities,  of  which  the  principal 
are  these:  material  qualities;  sensations ;  abstract  ideas; 
tendencies  of  mind,  and  mental  powers."^  "The  first 
group,  material  qualities,  are  like  a  mass  of  foam,  that 
gradually  forms  and  then  vanishes.  The  second  group, 
the  sensations,  are  like  a  bubble  dancing  en  the  face  of 
the   water.       The    third    group,   the    ideas,    are    like    the 

'  Rhys  Davids,  "  Buddhism,"  p.  109. 

'  Nirvana,  which  represents  annihilation  or  the  absolute  nothing,  is 
unquestionably  the  logical  consequence  of  the  teaching  of  Buddha,  alike 
from  a  moral  and  metaphysical  point  of  view.  The  solid  argument 
of  M.  Barthelemy  Saint-Hilaire  on  this  point  has  not  been  shaken. 
See  Max  Muller,  "  Chips  from  a  German  Workshop,"  vol.  i.  p.  254. 

*  Rhys  Davids,  "  Buddhism,"  p.  90, 


BUDDHA.  235 

uncertain  image  which  appears  in  the  sunshine.  The 
fourth  group,  tlie  mental  and  moral  predispositions,  are 
Hke  the  plantain  stalk,  without  firmness  or  solidity.  And 
the  last  group,  the  thottghts,  are  like  a  spectre  or  magical 
illusicn.  It  is  repeatedly  and  distinctly  laid  down  in  the 
Pitakas  that  none  of  these  Skandhas  or  divisions  of  the 
qualifies  of  sentient  beings  is  the  soul."  ^  The  substance, 
the  life,  the  individual  being  is  only  the  effect  of  ignorance  ; 
and  as  life,  as  being  is  the  great  evil,  it  is  of  primary 
importance  to  destroy  ignorance  by  means  of  the  true 
doctrine  to  which  man  only  rises  by  meditation. 

But  this  is  not  enough.  The  essence  of  life  is  not  only 
a  false  notion  ;  there  is  also  inclination,  feeling,  desire. 
Now  these  are  the  consuming  fires  w^hich  destroy  our 
peace  and  keep  us  from  that  solitary  contemplation  the 
end  of  which  is  Nirvana.  It  is  not  enough,  therefore,  to 
free  the  mind  from  error;  the  flame  of  desire  also  must 
be  quenched.  Hence  the  importance  of  morality  and 
the  place  it  occupies  in  the  teaching  of  Buddha,  though  it 
has  no  distinct  or  metaphysical  status.  This  morality, 
as  M.  Renan  has  well  observed,  does  not  rest  upon  the 
categorical  imperative,  for  in  order  to  this,  it  would  be 
necessary  that  the  absolute  should  have  an  existence, 
at  least  for  the  conscience ;  and  it  has  no  such  existence. 
Individual  morality  is  simply  the  extinction  of  all  indi- 
viduality, it  is  moral  suicide.  It  is  therefore  in  reality, 
a  morality  of  self  interest,  since  it  seeks  only  its  own 
good.  This  at  least  is  its  final  term.  Nevertheless,  as 
we  have  seen,  it  becomes  charity  by  the  manner  in  which 
it  regards  the  relation  of  men  among  themselves.  It 
breathes  a  tender  pity  for  their  illusions,  which  it  seeks 
to  dispel,  and  for  their  sufferings  which  it  would  fain 
soften  in  order  to  dull  the  consciousness  of  individual 
existence. 

Buddhism  does  indeed  recognise  a  connection  between 
moral  cause  and  efiect.  A  man  certainly  reaps  that  which 
he  has  sown.  On  this  is  based  one  of  its  mysteries,  the 
doctrine  of  karma.  "This  is  the  doctrine  that,  as  soon 
as  a  sentient  being  (man,  animal,  or  angel)  dies,  a  new 

*  Rhys  Davids,  "  Buddhism,"  p.  93. 


236     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

being  is  produced  in  a  more  or  less  painful  and  material 
state  of  existence,  according  to  the  karma,  the  desert  or 
merit  of  the  being  who  had  died."  ..."  The  karma  of 
the  previous  sentient  being  then  determines  the  locality, 
nature  and  future  of  the  new  sentient  being."  ^  This  is 
indefinitely  repeated  till  all  desire,  all  consciousness  is 
quenched,  when  the  blessedness  of  Nirvana  will  be 
attained. 

The  moral  teaching  of  Buddha  remains  his  best  title 
to  honour  and  the  real  secret  of  his  power.  Though  he 
keeps  the  extinction  of  sentient  life  always  in  view  as 
the  goal  of  all  endeavour,  he  commences  with  precepts 
Vv'hich  while  they  tend  in  this  direction  (since  all  are 
designed  to  produce  absolute  quiescence),  are  also  of 
general  application.  When  Buddha  represents  Nirvana 
as  the  result  of  continence  and  purit}',  he  directly  helps 
to  promote  a  most  excellent  good.     He  says : 

"  The  real  treasure  is  that  laid  up  by  man  or  woman 
Through  charity  and  piety,  temperance  and  self-control. 
The  treasure  thus  hid  is  secure  and  passes  not  away  ; 
Though  he  leave  the  fleeting  riches  of  this  world,  this  man  takes 

with  him 
A  treasure  that  no  wrong  of  others,  and  no  thief  can  steal. 
Let  the  wise  man  do  good  deeds — the  treasure  that  follows  of 

itself."  * 

Again : 

"  Fornever  in  this  world  does  hatred  cease  by  hatred, 

Hatred  ceases  by  love  ;  this  is  always  its  nature." 
"  As  the  bee  injuring  not 

The  flower,  its  colour  or  scent, 

Flies  away,  taking  the  nectar ; 

So  let  the  wise  man  dwell  upon  the  earth." 
"  One  may  conquer  a  thousand  thousand  men  in  battle, 

But  he  who  conquers  himself  alone  is  the  greatest  victor." 
•'  Let  a  man  make  himself  what  he  preaches  to  others ; 

The  well-subdued  may  tame  others,  oneself  indeed  it  is  hard 

to  tame." 
•  Let  us  live  happily  then,  not  hating  those  who  hate  us, 

Let  us  live  free  from  hatred  among  men  who  hate."  ^ 

•  Rhj's  Davids,  "  Buddhism,"  p.  lOI. 

^  Ibid.,  p.  127. 

'  Ibid.,  p.  129,  130. 


BUDDHA.  2n 

What  wisdom  there  is  in  such  words  as  these  : 

"Let  no  man  think  lightly  of  sin,  saying  in  his  heart,  'It   cannot 
overtake  me.' 
As  the  waterpot  fills  by  even  drops  of  water  falling, 
The  fool  gets  full  of  sin,  ever  gathering  little  by  little." 

"  He  who  formerly  was  heedless,  and  afterwards  becomes  earnest, 
Lights  up  this  world,  like  the  moon  escaped  from  a  cloud." ' 

One  is  astonished  to  find  in  this  Buddhist  system  of 
morals,  precepts  touching  the  family  Hfe,  which  must  have 
appeared  to  its  apostles  a  miserably  low  state  of  existence. 
And  yet  it  enjoins  the  child  to  respond  to  the  love  of  its 
parents,  lending  them  all  necessary  help  ;  it  charges  the 
husband  to  cherish  the  wife  and  to  be  faithful  to  her ;  the 
wife  to  love  her  husband  and  to  be  hospitable  and  chaste;  the 
master  to  be  watchful  over  the  well-being  of  his  servants, 
to  apportion  the  work  according  to  their  strength,  to  tend 
them  in  sickness,  to  share  with  them  unusual  delicacies, 
and  to  give  them  occasional  holidays.  Obviously  we 
have  here  only  the  preliminary  steps  to  the  "  Noble  Path  " 
into  which  the  feet  must  be  directed  as  soon  as  possible. 
This  elementary  morality  is  summed  up  in  the  eight 
following  precepts. 

1.  One  should  not  destroy  life. 

2.  One  should  not  take  that  which  is  not  given. 

3.  One  should  not  tell  lies. 

4.  One  should  not  become  a  drinker  of  intoxicatmg 
liquors. 

5.  One  should  refrain  from  unlawful  sexual  intercourse — 
an  ignoble  thing. 

6.  One  should  not  eat  unseasonable  food  at  nights. 
'/.  One  should  not  wear  garlands  or  use  perfumes. 

8.  One  should  sleep  on  a  mat  spread  on  the  ground.^ 
•  Although  the  more  excellent  way  was  not  closed  to 
any,  it  seems  nevertheless,  that  from  the  first,  Buddha 
instituted  the  order  of  mendicants.  This  was  not  a  new 
priesthood,  or  an  exclusive  caste,  for  it  was  open  to  all 
who  made  themselves  worthy. 

The  master  had  proclaimed  religious  equality  in  a  more 
admirable  manner,     "  The  gift  of  the  law,"  he  said,  "  sur- 

»  "Buddhism,"  p.  13a  \  Ibid.,  p.  139. 


238     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

passes  all  gifts,  its  sweetness  excels  all  sweetness,  its 
delights  surpass  all  delights.  The  extinction  of  all  inclina- 
tion, of  all  desire,  banishes  pain.  It  is  not  by  birth  that 
one  belongs  to  the  lower  class  ;  it  is  not  by  birth  that  one 
is  made  a  Brahman.  It  is  by  his  deeds  a  man  is  de- 
graded to  the  lowest  class  ;  by  his  deeds  also  he  becomes 
a  Brahman."^  Buddha  did  not  apply  this  mighty  spiritual 
law  only  to  the  Brahmans  from  whom  he  had  severed 
himself,  but  also  to  his  own  followers, 

"  What  is  the  use  of  platted  hair,  O  fool  ? 
What  of  a  garment  of  skin  ? 
Your  low  yearnings  are  within  you  ! 
And  the  outside  thou  makest  clean.'"'* 

Nothing  could  be  more  unlike  the  original  mendicant 
societies  than  the  rich  and  powerful  monasteries  of 
modern  Buddhism,  The  intention  of  the  founder  was 
that  these  mendicants  should  realise  not  the  superiority 
there  is  in  learning,  but  in  holiness.  As  there  is  no  official 
status  for  a  priesthood  to  mediate  between  men  and  the 
deity,  and  to  offer  him  sacrifices  of  propititation,  so  the 
Buddhist  monk  neither  binds  nor  looses.  His  is  only  a 
moral  influence.  He  is  enjoined  to  content  himself  with 
small  alms,  and  to  think  them,  however  small,  greater  than 
he  deserves.     His  life  is  to  be  love. 

•  "  The  mendicant  who,  though  receiving  little, 
Thinks  not  his  alms  are  less  than  he  deserves, 
Him  the  very  gods  will  magnify 
Whose  life  is  pure,  who  is  not  slothful. 
The  mendicant  whose  life  is  love, 
Whose  joy,  the  teaching  of  Buddha, 
He  will  enter  the  tranquil  lot ; 
Nirvana's  bliss,  where  the  Sanskaras  end. 
Let  his  livelihood  be  kindliness,  his  conduct  righteousness. 
Then  in  the  fulness  of  gladness,  he  will  make  an  end  of  grief."  ^ 

To  be  eligible  for  the  order  of  mendicants,  a  man  must 
be  free  from  contagious  disease,  he  must  not  be  either 
a  slave  or  a  soldier ;  he  must  be  in  a  word,  master  of  him- 
self, and  must  have  obtained  the  consent  of  his  parents. 
At   the    end   of  eight   years,    the    candidate    makes   this 

'  Renan,  "  Etudes  d'histoire  religieuse,"  p.  33. 

*  Rhys  Davids,  "Buddhism,"  p.  155. 

*  Ibid.,  p.  154. 


BUDDHA.  239 

prayer  to  the  initiated  :  "  Have  pity  on  me,  lord,  take 
these  robes,  and  let  me  be  ordained  that  I  may  escape 
from  sorrow  and  experience  Nirvana."  ^  Then  he  takes 
a  vow  to  fulfil  all  the  commandments  and  to  observe 
all  the  rule  of  the  monastic  life.  Chastity,  poverty  and 
obedience  are  required  of  him.  The  great  punishment 
is  exclusion  from  the  order. 

The  extensive  development  of  the  Buddhist  monastic 
system  belongs  no  doubt  to  the  following  epoch.  The 
life  of  the  novice  and  of  the  monk  was  then  placed  under 
strict  rule.  The  former  had  to  sweep  his  own  dwelling, 
to  seek  his  daily  food,  and  to  devote  himself  to  meditation. 
When  he  had  carried  flowers  to  the  holy  images — the  only 
rite  of  his  cultus — he  made  his  round  as  a  mendicant  and 
spent  the  rest  of  his  time  in  study  and  meditation.  He 
had  to  confess  his  faults  to  his  superiors.  The  initiated 
passed  their  life  in  meditation,  concerning  which  the 
regulations  were  very  minute.  A  sort  of  mystic  ladder 
was  set  up  before  the  mind  of  the  anchorite,  and  this 
ladder  he  was  to  climb  step  by  step.  The  theme  of  the 
first  meditation  was  love.  In  this  the  Buddhist  monk 
included  all  living  things  and  blessed  them.  The  second 
meditation  was  one  of  pity,  in  which  he  laid  upon  his 
heart  the  burden  of  the  sorrows  of  the  world.  The  third 
meditation  was  on  joy,  in  which  the  mendicant  was  to 
think  of  the  gladness  and  prosperity  of  others  and  rejoice 
in  their  joy.  The  fourth  meditation  was  on  impurity,  in 
which  he  represented  to  himself  "  the  vileness  of  the 
body,  and  the  horrors  of  disease  and  corruption ;  how 
it  passes  away  like  the  foam  of  the  sea,  and  how  by  the 
continued  repetition  of  birth  and  death,  mortals  become 
subject  to  continual  sorrow."  The  fifth  meditation  was  on 
serenity,  wherein  the  mendicant  thinks  of  all  things  that 
worldly  men  hold  good  or  bad  ;  power,  oppression,  love  and 
hate,  riches  and  want,  fame  and  contempt,  youth  and  beauty, 
decrepitude  and  disease,  and  regards  them  all  with  fixed 
indifference,  with  utter  calmness  and  serenity  of  mind."  ^ 

We  are  thus  brought  to  the  brink  of  the  silent  abyss 
of  Nirvana  which  is  the  final  goal.     The  language  used 

'  Rhys  Davids,  "Buddhism,"  p.  159.  *  Ibid.,  p.  171. 


240     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

by  Buddha  in  his  dying  hour  to  the  first  mendicants 
trained  in  his  own  school,  shows  that  the  spirit  of  these 
monastic  institutions  was  caught  from  him:  "O  mendi- 
cants !  thoroughly  learn  and  practise  and  perfect  and 
spread  abroad  the  law  thought  out  and  revealed  by  me, 
in  order  that  this  religion  of  mine  (literally,  this  purity) 
may  last  long  and  be  perpetuated  for  the  good  and 
happiness  of  the  great  multitudes,  out  of  pity  for  the 
world,  to  the  advantage  and  prosperity  of  gods  and  men. 
What  is  that  law  ?  It  is  the  four  earnest  Meditations, 
the  four  great  Efforts,  the  four  roads  to  Iddhi,^  the  five 
moral  Powers,  the  seven  kinds  of  wisdom,  and  the 
noble  eight-fold  Path." 

To  these  multitudes  Buddha  unsparingly  devoted  him- 
self after  his  arrival  in  Benares  and  entrance  on  his 
public  ministry.  It  was  for  them  that  he  embodied  his 
grand  thoughts  in  the  form  of  impressive  and  pathetic 
parables.  The  old  Sutras  give  us  an  echo  of  some  of  his 
sermons. 

"  Once  seated  on  the  Elephant  Rock,  near  Gaya, 
with  some  new  disciples  who  had  been  worshippers 
of  Agni,  (the  sacred  fire),  a  fire  broke  out  in  the  jungle  on 
the  opposite  hill.  Taking  the  fire  as  his  text,  the  Teacher 
declared  that  so  long  as  men  remained  in  ignorance  they 
were,  as  it  were,  consumed  by  a  fire — by  the  excitement 
produced  within  them  by  the  action  of  external  things. 
These  things  acted  upon  them  through  the  five  senses  and 
the  heart  (which  Gautama  regarded  as  a  sixth  organ  of 
sense).  The  eye,  for  instance,  perceives  objects ;  from 
this  perception  arises  an  inward  sensation,  producing 
pleasure  or  pain.  Sensations  produce  this  misery  and 
joy,  because  they  supply  fuel  as  it  were  to  the  inward 
fires  of  concupiscence,  anger  and  ignorance,  and  the 
anxieties  of  birth,  decay  and  death. 

"  The  same  was  declared  to  be  the  case  with  the  sensa- 
tions produced  by  each  of  the  other  senses.  But  those 
who  follow  the  Buddha's  scheme  of  inward  self-control, 
— the  four  stages  of  the  path  whose  gate  is  purity  and 
whose  goal  is  love,  have  become  wise.     The  sensations 

'  The  supernatural  powers  acquired  in  a  certain  condition  of  trance. 
*  "Buddhism,"  p.  172. 


BUDDHA.  ^  2^1 

trom  without  no  longer  give  fuel  to  the  inward  fire,  since 
the  fires  of  concupiscence  have  ceased  to  burn.  True 
disciples  are  thus  free  from  that  craving  thirst  which  is 
the  origin  of  evil.  The  wisdom  they  have  acquired  will 
lead  them  on,  sooner  or  later,  to  perfection.  They  are 
delivered  from  the  miseries  which  would  result  from 
another  birth,  and  even  in  this  birth  they  no  longer 
need  the  guidance  of  such  laws  as  those  of  caste  and 
ceremonies  and  sacrifices,  for  they  have  already  reached 
far  beyond  them."  ' 

Two  of  the  most  famous  of  Buddha's  parables  strikingly 
resemble,  in  more  than  one  feature,  those  of  the  Sower 
and  the  Prodigal  Son  in  the  Gospel.  "  Faith,"  said  the 
Teacher,  "  is  the  seed  I  sow,  and  good  works  are  as  the 
rain  that  fertilises  it.  Wisdom  and  modesty  are  the  parts 
of  the  plough,  and  my  mind  is  the  guiding  rein.  I  lay 
hold  of  the  handle  of  the  law ;  earnestness  is  the  goad  I 
use,  and  diligence  is  my  draught  ox.  Thus  this  ploughing 
is  ploughed,  destroying  the  weeds  of  delusion.  The 
harvest  that  it  yields  is  the  ambrosia  fruit  of  Nirvana, 
and  by  this  ploughing  ail  sorrow  ends.""^ 

The  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son  given  in  the  "  Lotus 
de  la  bonne  loi,"  clearly  does  not  belong  to  the  primitive 
period  of  Buddhism,  but  it  bears  none  the  less  the  genuine 
impress  of  its  prevailing  inspiration.  In  the  midst  of 
m.any  wearisome  details,  comes  out  the  image  of  the 
father  full  of  compassion  for  the  son,  wl";0,  after  leaving 
him  has  fallen  into  abject  misery,  while  the  father 
himself  is  living  in  wealth  and  plenty.  He  bemoans 
himself  in  a  piteous  manner  that  he,  now  old,  broken 
down  and  ready  to  die,  cannot  find  his  son  to  make  him 
the  sharer  of  his  goods  ;  when,  without  knowing  it,  his 
son  comes  back  to  the  threshold  of  his  father's  palace,  in 
vile  raiment  and  hoping  for  nothing  but  the  pauper's 
portion.  His  father,  who  has  recognised  him,  cries  out  in 
his  joy :  ''  Lo,  I  have  found  him  who  is  to  inherit  all  that 
is  mine.  I  thought  of  none  but  him.  And  now  he  is 
come  of  his  own  accord,  and  I,  I  am  old  and  bent ! "  The 
reconciliation  does  not  take  place  imm.ediately,  however. 

'  "  Buddhism,"  p.  59,  60.  '  Ibid.,  p.  135. 

16 


242     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 


The  father  wishes  to  prove  the  wanderer,  and  so  he  sets 
him  to  the  most  menial  of  tasks,  that  of  sweeping  up  the 
refuse.  At  length  after  twenty  years  of  this  hard  service, 
the  father  clasps  him  to  his  arms.  "Thou  art  my  son," 
he  exclaims,  "and  all  that  I  have  is  thine."  But  the  son 
still  stays  outside  the  palace  feeling  his  poverty.  This 
is  a  sure  proof  that  the  ordeal  is  no  longer  needed.  The 
father  calls  together  all  his  relations,  and  pointing  to  the 
beggar,  says :  "  This  man  is  my  beloved  son.  It  was 
I  who  begat  him.  For  fifty  years  he  disappeared  from 
this  town.  Far  and  wide  have  I  gone  seeking  him  ;  I 
came  back  here,  and  lo !  1  have  found  him.  He  is  my 
son  and  I  am  his  father.  All  this  wealth  is  his."  The 
son  falls  at  the  father's  feet,  saying  :  "  Here  am  I  then 
in  possession  of  all  these  treasures  ! " 

The  explanation  of  the  parable  does  not  come  up  to 
the  pathetic  beauty  of  the  narrative.  It  means  simply 
that  the  disciple  of  Euddha  begins  with  the  study  of  the 
lower  laws  which  constrain  him  to  the  humblest  offices, 
but  that  in  the  end  he  becomes  a  partaker  of  the  supreme 
wisdom.  "  The  master  of  the  world,  in  order  to  prove 
us,  does  not  tell  us  at  once  the  true  meaning  of  his 
words.  He  gives  his  treasures  to  those  who  have 
subdued  their  sinful  inclinations."^ 

The  parable  of  the  three  chariots  symbolises  the  same 
fatherly  compassion.  There  is  a  father  who  can  find  no 
other  way  of  saving  his  children  from  a  burning  house, 
than  by  giving  them  three  chariots.  The  burning  house 
is  the  world  which  is  being  consumed  by  the  flaming 
anguish  and  distress  arising  from  birth.  The  unhappy 
inhabitants  of  the  burning  house,  in  their  eagerness  for 
play,  do  not  heed  the  danger.  They  play  on  and  take 
no  alarm.  Buddha  rescues  them  b}'  giving  them  three 
cars  of  deliverance.  Only  the  best  among  them  choose 
the  chariot  of  contemplation.^  Elsewhere  the  hearers 
of  the  good  doctrine  are  compared  to  various  plants  of 
the  earth  which  all  drink  the  same  water  from  heaven,  for 
the  law  is  one.^  The  most  beautiful  of  these  parables  is 
that  of  the  precious  pearl.     It  is  thus  summed  up:  "We 

'  "Lotus  de  la  bonne  loi,"  c.  iii.         '^  Ibid.,  c.  iii.         ^  Ibid.,  c.  v. 


BUDDHA.  2^j 

bear  concealed  within  us  the  jewel  of  truth.  We  lorget 
it,  like  a  man  carrying  a  ring  hidden  in  a  knot  tied  at  one 
extremity  of  his  outer  garment.  He  thinks  no  more  of 
it  and  believes  himself  a  beggar.  He  is  content  with 
just  a  morsel  of  bread  a  day,  till  a  friend  reminds  him 
that  he  is  the  possessor  of  a  precious  stone.  Thus  do 
v,e  fail  to  know  the  supreme  good  which  we  bring  with 
us  from  previous  states  of  existence."^ 

Whether  or  not  these  parables  were  spoken  by  Buddha 
himself,  they  are  none  the  less  in  the  spirit  of  his  teaching, 
and  they  help  us  to  understand  its  attractiveness  and 
popularity.  But  again  we  say  the  great  charm  lay  in 
himself  and  in  his  moral  suasion.  From  the  time  he 
entered  on  his  apostolate,  he  lived  for  nothing  but  his 
mission.  Nothing  could  be  imagined  more  pure  and 
noble  than  this  life  of  devotedness,  of  generous  inspiration 
and  holy  activity.  He  desired  no  other  triumph  than 
to  know  that  good  was  done,  and  the  truth  proclaimed 
free  from  all  admixture  of  passion.  His  brow  was 
crowned  with  an  august  serenity.  This  comes  out  very 
clearly  from  all  the  Buddhist  legends,  obscured  as  they 
are  by  spurious  additions. 

Accompanied  by  the  disciples  who  had  gathered  round 
liim  at  Gaya,  Buddha  repaired  to  the  environs  of  Rajagriha, 
the  capital  of  Magadha  or  Behar,  in  the  western  valley  of 
the  Ganges.  He  commanded  his  disciple  Kasyapa  to 
declare  in  his  name  that  if  he  rejected  the  sacrifice  of 
Agni,  it  was  because  he  had  come  to  see  that  men  must 
not  only  renounce  the  allurements  of  sense,  but  also 
sacrifices.  This  is  the  only  way  to  attain  to  the  ineffable 
peace  in  Nirvana,  where  there  is  no  more  birth,  or  old 
age,  or  death.  Gautama  himself  confirms  the  words  of 
Kasyapa.  He  leaves  an  impression  of  admiration  and 
ahnost  of  enthusiasm  on  the  Rajah  and  his  people.  Jt 
uiust  have  been  at  this  time  that  he  codified  his  teaching 
in  the  assembly  of  his  first  disciples.  To  those  among 
them  who  complained  that  they  were  despised  by  the 
Brahmans  for  their  miserable  life,  he  replies  that  they 
have  nothing  to  seek  but  the  right  way,  that  they  have 

'  Lotus  de  la  bonne  loi,"'  c.  v. 


244     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

no  other  weapon  at  their  command  but  persuasion,  and 
that  they  can  only  gain  adherents  to  their  cause  by  the 
proclamation  of  the  truth  for  the  good  of  all. 

The  most  touching  episode  of  this  period  of  his  life 
is  his  interview  with  his  father  Suddhodana  at  Kapilavastu. 
Suddhcdana  implores  him  to  visit  his  native  town  and 
not  to  neglect  his  father's  hoary  hairs.  Gautama  yields 
to  his  entreaty,  but  he  takes  up  his  abode  in  a  cave  near 
the  town,  and  only  comes  forth  to  beg  from  door  to  door. 
On  hearing  this,  his  father  hurries  indignantly  to  him  and 
asks  why  he  does  him  this  dishonour.  "It  is  the  custom 
of  our  race,"  replies  Gautama.  "  But  are  we  not  of  an 
illustrious  race?"  rejoins  his  father,  "of  a  race  that  was 
never  known  to  beg  ?  "  "  You  and  your  family  may  be 
descended  from  kings,"  replied  Buddha,  "  but  for  myself 
I  am  descended  from  the  old  prophets,  who  always  begged 
their  bread.  When  a  man  has  found  a  secret  treasure, 
it  is  his  duty  to  give  his  father  his  most  precious  jewel." 
This  jewel  was  his  doctrine.  He  had  the  joy  of  converting 
his  father  as  well  as  Yasodhara,  the  wife  of  his  youth, 
who  had  never  ceased  to  love  and  to  lament  him.^ 

During  the  years  which  followed,  Buddha  pursued  his 
holy  calling,  devoting  the  month  of  flowers  to  meditation, 
and  the  rest  of  the  year  to  teaching.  When  he  felt  his 
end  drawing  near,  in  the  village  of  Vai^ali,  he  gathered  his 
disciples  around  him  and  delivered  to  the  Mendicants,  the 
charge  Ave  have  quoted  as  the  institution  of  their  order. 

He  then  proceeded  to  Kusinagara,  one  hundred  and 
twenty  miles  from  Benares,  and  passed  the  night  in  a 
cave  on  the  banks  of  the  river.  Ananda,  his  beloved 
disciple,  who  is,  so  to  speak,  the  St.  John  of  the  Indian 
Messiah,  received  his  last  utterances.  At  the  close  of 
this  conversation  Ananda  broke  down  and  went  aside  to 
weep.  "  I  am  not  yet  perfect,"  he  sobbed,  "  and  my 
teacher  is  passing  away,  he  who  is  so  kind."  But 
Gautama  missed  him,  and  sending  for  him,  comforted  him 
with  the  hope  of  Nirvana,  repeating  what  he  had  so  often 
said  about  the  impermanence  of  all  things.     "  O  Ananda, 

'  Lotus  de  la  bonne  loi,"  p.  64—66.     Foucaux  says  that  Gautama  had 
three  wives — Gopa,  Yasodhara,  and  Utpalavarna  ! 


BUDDHA.  245 

do  not  let  3'ourself  be  troubled,  do  not  weep.  Have  I 
not  told  you  that  we  must  part  from  all  we  hold  most 
dear  and  pleasant  ?  No  being,  born,  or  put  together, 
can  overcome  the  dissolution  inherent  in  it.  No  such 
condition  can  exist.  For  a  long  time,  Ananda,  you  have 
been  very  near  to  me  by  kindness  in  act,  and  word,  and 
thoughtfulness.  You  have  always  done  well ;  persevere, 
and  you  too  shall  be  quite  free  from  this  thirst  of  life, 
this  chain  of  ignorance."  ^ 

The  disciple  found  his  best  consolation  in  carrying  on 
the  work  of  the  master  by  scattering  his  teaching  far  and 
wide.  It  was  indeed  one  of  the  noblest  features  of 
Buddhism  that  it  was  so  largely  a  religion  of  propagand- 
ism.  In  this,  it  was  faithful  to  the  lofty  spirituality  of  its 
principle  which  raised  it  above  all  distinctions  of  class  and 
nation,  so  that  its  concern  for  man  was  purely  for  man 
as  man,  needing  to  be  raised  from  his  low  estate.  Its 
primary  inspiration  was  charity,  pity  for  the  unhappy 
creature  man,  whom  it  yearned  to  deliver  from  his 
miserable  condition  by  imparting  to  him  the  true  know- 
ledge, and  thus  setting  him  in  the  way  to  Nirvana.  It 
may  be  said  that  this  missionary  spirit  was  an  essential 
element  of  Buddhism,  and  we  know  to  what  an  extent 
it  was  successful,  since  in  the  end  whole  nations  accepted 
it  as  the  law  of  their  life. 

The  novissima  verba  of  the  master  sum  up  his  whole 
teaching.  "  Mendicants,"  he  said,  "  I  now  impress  upon 
you,  the  parts  and  powers  of  man  must  be  dissolved  ;^ 
work  out  your  salvation  with  diligence."  Shortly  after 
uttering  these  words  he  became  unconscious  and  in  that 
state  passed  away.^ 

Gautama,  was,  to  the  end,  a  man  of  peace.  His  hand 
was  not  lifted  against  any,  and  yet  he  made  all  things 
new  by  the  strange  and  powerful  influence  he  exerted. 
He  reminds  us  of  one  of  tho.se  south  winds  full  of  faint 

'   "  Lotus  de  la  bonne  loi,"  p.  81. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  83. 

^  The  date  of  his  death  has  been  determined  by  means  of  three  inscrip- 
tions of  the  Emperor  Agoka.  From  these  we  gather  that  the  thirty- 
seventh  year  of  A(;oka"s  reign  was  the  two  hundred  and  thirty-sixth 
since  the  death  of  the  master,  which  gives  us  an  approximate  date 
482—472,  B.C. 


246     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

sweetness  which  sometimes  blow  from  the  desert.  We 
read  in  the  Lalita-Vistara,  "  From  east  to  west  the  air 
thrills  with  the  accents  of  Buddha,  a  sweet  melodious 
sound  which  goes  straight  to  the  heart."  ^  Such  is  indeed 
the  strange  morbid  fascination  of  this  teaching,  which, 
while  it  leads  to  annihilation,  points  the  way  in  a  garb  of 
beneficence  and  love.  The  "  wheel  of  the  law  "  which 
Buddha  turns,  revolves  only  in  a  vacuum ;  it  is  the  dull 
round  of  a  life  without  thought,  desire,  affection,  utter- 
ance.'-^ 

He  places  upon  his  brow  the  diadem  of  the  great 
Deliverer.  He  looks  upon  all  beings  with  the  love  of  a 
father  for  an  only  son,  and  holds  out  to  them  the  key  of 
the  only  true  knowledge,  by  which  they  are  to  be  set  free 
from  all  sorrow.  But  the  satisfaction  he  promises  is  to 
be  realised  only  in  annihilation.^ 

This  is  the  goal  of  all  this  high  moral  teaching. 
Herein  lies  the  hopeless  paradox  of  Buddhism.  The 
way  is  better  than  the  end.  "  Fortunately  the  millions 
who  embraced  the  doctrine  of  Buddha,  and  were  saved 
by  it  from  the  depths  of  barbarism,  brutality  and  selfish- 
ness, were  unable  to  fathom  the  meaning  of  his  metaphy- 
sical doctrines.  The  Nirvana,  to  which  they  aspired  was 
only  a  relative  deliverance  from  the  miseries  of  human 
life."  * 

§  II. — Development  and  Transformation  of 
Primitive  Buddhism. 

Buddhism  rises  before  us,  like  a  building  in  which 
story  after  story  is  added  on  the  same  foundation.  At 
first  the  human  side  is  most  prominent.  Buddha  appears 
primarily  as  a  master,  like  one  of  ourselves,  who  allures 
us  to  follow  him  by  the  way  of  moral  purity  and  meditation^ 
into  the  blessed  Nirvana.  We  have  connected  with  this 
inaugural  period,  everything  in  the  Buddhist  documents 
which  bears  this  im.press  of  humanity  unobscured  by  my- 
thological overgrowths.     The  second  period  in  the  develop- 

'  Lalita-Vistara,  p.  332. 

Mbid.,  p.  351. 

»  Ibid  ,  p.  361. 

*  Max  P.lLiHcr,  "Chips  from  a  German  Wcrksliop,"  voL  i.  p.  251. 


BUDDHA.  247 

ment  of  the  legend  seems  to  us  marked  by  the  extraor- 
dinary exaggeration  of  the  part  of  Buddha  as  Messiah. 
This  process  is  alr.eady  traceable  in  the  Lalita-Vistara. 
He  is  there  no  longer  merely  the  son  of  a  king.  His 
actual  life  was  preceded  by  numberless  existences  in  which 
he  had  already  accomplished  his  mission  as  a  deliverer. 
"  It  is  handed  down  as  a  tradition  among  the  gymnosOphists 
of  India,  that  he  was  miraculously  conceived,  and  was 
brought  forth  by  a  virgin  from  her  side."  ^ 

His  future  glory  is  announced  by  a  great  Rishi  (or  seer) 
who,  like  another  Simeon,  blesses  the  child  of  miracle. 
It  was  said  that  "by  him,  the  Water  appearing  in  the 
midst  of  the  fires  of  sin  devouring  the  world,  the  Light 
appearing  in  the  darkness  of  the  world's  ignorance, 
the  Ship  appearing  amidst  the  perils  of  the  ocean  of 
human  misery,  the  Liberator  of  those  enchained  in  the 
bonds  of  sin,  the  Ph3'sician  of  those  tormented  by  decay 
and  disease — by  him  v/ould  be  obtained  the  truth  which 
would  be  the  salvation  of  sentient  beings."^ 

The  Buddhist  legends  soon  began  to  add  to  the  touching 
story  of  the  three  meetings  which  determined  the  young 
prince  to  abandon  his  royal  estate.  He  is.  represented  as 
wooed  into  a  life  of  solitude  by  the  incantations  of  number- 
less Buddhas,  his  forerunners  and  compeers.'  From  t!  e 
four  points  of  space,  they  implore  him  to  leave  his  palace 
and  flee  into  the  desert.  Their  songs  contain  the  whole 
doctrine  which  he  is  to  preach,  and  are  far  more  profound 
and  metaphysical  than  the  more  ancient  Sutras. 

"  Go  speedily,"  say  they,  "  take  thy  place  beside  the  best 
of  trees,  and  attain  to  immortality.  In  millions  of  previous 
existences  hast  thou  given  up  that  which  cost  thee  dear — 
gold,  precious  stones,  thy  hands,  thy  feet ;  thy  beloved 
sons,  thy  kingdom,  without  anger  or  hatred  in  thine  heart 
against  those  who  asked  of  thee  the  sacrifice.  Thou 
hast  pardoned  thy  murderers.  Numberless  are  the  forms 
which  thy  heroism  has  assumed." 

The  celestial  Buddhas  reveal  to  him  afresh  the  deep 
hidden  reason  of  the  doctrine  of  final  annihilation. 
"Every  substance,"  say  they,  "must  perish  in  the  end; 

»  "Buddhism,"  p.  1S3.  '^  Ibid.,  p.  187. 


248     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

no  composite  bod}^  has  any  permanence."  In  early  life, 
'.hose  who  are  beautiful  are  loved  and  desired.  When 
old  age  and  sickness  have  destroyed  the  glory  of  the 
body,  they  are  forsaken,  as  the  hart  forsakes  the  dried- 
up  stream.  Death  bears  them  away,  like  a  river  carrying 
down  a  pine  tree  in  its  swirling  waters.  Man  goes  away 
alone,  followed  by  the  fruit  of  his  own  works,  which  leave 
him  with  strength  spent.  Composite  bodies  being  by  nature 
weak  and  dependent  are  swept  away  like  loose  soil  in 
times  of  much  rain.  They  are  inert  and  empty,  like  the 
empty  hand  held  out  to  deceive  a  child.  All  composite 
bodies  proceed  from  primary  and  secondary  causes.  Just 
as  where  there  is  a  seed,  there  is  a  bud,  though  the  seed 
is  not  itself  the  bud,  so  that  without  the  one  the  other 
would  have  no  existence,  so  though  the  substance  has  no 
proper  durability,  it  goes  on  without  interruption.  Com- 
posite bodies  are  the  result  of  ignorance  and  have  no 
real  existence.^ 

The  celestial  choir  makes  touching  appeals  to  the 
young  prince.  "  From  the  cloud  of  mercy "  it  prays, 
"  send  down  the  refreshing,  peace-bringing  shower.  Do 
not  neglect  the  miserable,  the  poor,  the  afflicted.  Gather 
them  together,  O  Conductor  of  men  !  That  thou  mayest 
appease  the  passion  and  restlessness  of  those  who  are 
in  the  body,  lead  them  to  the  other  side  of  the  ocean  of 
pure  existence,  where  they  may  dwell  in  quietness  and 
peace,  free  from  the  fever  of  living.  Do  not  pass 
by  those  who  are  tormented  with  hatred  and  envy.  Let 
the  world  be  established  in  patience.  Let  the  minds 
of  thy  creatures  become  so  absorbed  in  meditation  that 
they  may  understand  that  into  this  country  where  thou 
dwellest,  joy  cannot  enter."  ^ 

Buddha,  on  leaving  his  famil}^,  sojourns  for  a  little  time 
with  an  illustrious  anchorite  ;  but  the  disciple  soon  gets 
beyond  his  master  and  discovers  that  asceticism  itself  is 
but  vanity. 

The  temptation  under  the  sacred  Bo-tree  or  tree  of 
wisdom,  is  magnified  into  a  pretentious  myth  by  which  it 
loses  much  of  its  m.oral  beauty.    The  fundamental  principle 


"  Lalita-Vistara,"  pp.,  156,  157.  "^  Ibid.,  p.  158. 


BUDDHA.  249 

of  his  doctrine  presents  itself  to  Buddha  with  new  pre- 
cision. "  On  account  of  ignorance,"  says  Buddha  in  one 
of  the  discourses  that  appear  in  the  Sanyutta,  as  translated 
by  Rev.  D.  J.  Gogerly,  "  merit  and  demerit  are  produced ; 
on  account  of  merit  and  demerit,  consciousness ;  on 
account  of  consciousness,  body  and  mind ;  on  account 
of  body  and  mind,  their  organs  of  sense,  touch  (or 
contact)  ;  on  account  of  contact,  desire  ;  on  account  of 
desire,  sensation  (of  pleasure  or  pain)  ;  on  account  of 
sensation,  cleaving  (or  clinging  to  existing  objects) ;  on 
account  of  clinging  to  existing  objects,  renewed  existence 
(or  reproduction  after  death)  ;  on  account  of  reproduction 
of  existence,  birth  ;  on  account  of  birth,  decay,  death, 
sorrow,  crying,  pain,  disgust,  and  passionate  discontent. 
Thus  is  produced  the  complete  bcdy  of  sorrow.  From 
the  complete  separation  from  and  cessation  of  ignorance, 
is  the  cessation  of  merit  and  demerit ;  from  the  cessation 
of  merit  and  demerit  is  the  cessation  of  consciousness  ; 
from  the  cessation  of  consciousness  is  the  cessation  of  (the 
existence  of)  body  and  mind  ;  from  the  cessation  of  (the 
existence  of)  body  and  mind  is  the  cessation  of  (the  pro- 
duction of)  the  six  organs  ;  from  the  cessation  of  (the 
production  of)  the  six  organs  is  the  cessation  of  touch ; 
from  the  cessation  of  touch  is  the  cessation  of  desire; 
froiYi  the  cessation  of  desire  is  the  cessation  of  (pleasurable 
or  painful)  sensation ;  from  the  cessation  of  sensation,  is 
the  cessation  of  cleaving  to  existing  objects ;  from  the 
cessation  of  cleaving  to  existing  objects  is  the  cessation 
of  a  reproduction  of  existence ;  from  a  cessation  of  a 
reproduction  of  existence  is  the  cessation  of  birth  ;  from 
a  cessation  of  birth  is  the  cessation  of  decay.  Thus  this 
whole  body  of  sorrow  ceases  to  exist."  ^ 

It  follows  that  the  basis  of  the  whole  pyramid  of  being 
rests  upon  ignorance,  and  crumbles  away  as  knowledge 
takes  the  place  of  ignorance. 

Thus  in  his  holy  vigil,  Buddha  was  brought  to  see  that 
even  knowledge  must  be  destroyed,  or  must  at  least  be 
recognised  to  have  no  true  existence.  "  As  a  successful 
warrior  sees  all  the  army  of  the  enemy  put  to  the  rout, 

'   "Manual  of  Buddhism,"  R.  Spence  Hardy,  pp.  406,  407. 


250     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

so  the  Buddhas  see  natural  corruption,  desire,  anger,  the 
offspring  of  ignorance,  put  to  flight  like  thieves  who 
escape  with  what  they  have  stolen.  The  thirst  for 
existence,  and  even  existence  itself  has  been  quenched. 
The  well-woven  tissue  of  reasoning  with  the  thread  of 
thought  running  through  it,  has  been  completely  consumed, 
so  that  no  vestige  remains.  The  great  fire  of  passion 
with  its  accompanying  smoke  of  logic  has  been  put  out. 
The  great  enemy  who  troubles  man  from  the  very  moment 
of  his  birth  has  been  destroj'ed."  ^ 

"  After  the  four  stages  of  meditation  are  passed,  the 
Buddha  (and  every  being  is  to  become  a  Buddha)  enters 
into  the  infinity  of  space,  then  into  the  infinity  of  in- 
telligence, and  thence  he  passes  into  the  region  of  nothing. 
But  even  here  there  is  no  rest.  There  is  still  something 
left — the  idea  of  the  nothing  in  which  he  rejoices.  That 
also  must  be  destroyed,  and  it  is  destroyed  in  the  fourth 
and  last  region,  where  there  is  not  even  the  idea  of  a 
nothing  left,  and  where  there  is  complete  rest,  undisturbed 
by  nothing  or  what  is  not  nothing."  ^ 

It  is  not  enough  that  Buddha  has  found  the  great  conso- 
lation for  himself,  it  must  be  communicated  to  men.  "  Show 
to  all  men  the  path  of  peace,"  say  the  Buddhas,  his  pre- 
decessors. "  Have  pity,  O  guide,  on  this  erring  world, 
which  has  wandered  from  the  path  of  Nirvana.  Open 
wide  the  doors  of  full  deliverance.  Be  full  of  compassion 
for  miserable  creatures  !  Arise,  O  conqueror ;  shine  forth 
like  the  full  moon  after  an  eclipse.  Bring  gods  and  men 
into  the  full  Nirvana!"^ 

Although  the  actual  history  of  Buddha  has  been  greatly 
exaggerated  and  obscured  by  mythical  elements,  the 
primrary  idea  of  this  great  movement  is  retained  and 
comes  out  with  even  added  lustre,  caught  from  the  same 
fire  of  universal  compassion.  The  repetition  of  Buddha's 
favourite  formulas  is  a  part  of  his  method.  It  is  ever 
the  great  wheel  of  the  law  turning  in  the  infinite  void. 

The  mythological  side  of  Buddhism  has  received  count- 
less accretions  in  the  course  of  time.      Buddha  has  been 

'  "  Lalita-Vistara,"  p.  307, 

*  Max  Muller,  "Chips  from  a  German  Workshop,"  vol.  i,  p.  2£4. 

■  "Lalita-Vistara,"  pp.  331  —  333- 


BUDDHA.  251 

divided  into  thousands  and  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
Buddhas,  who  preceded  him  but  who  were  nevertheless  in 
permanent  communication  with  him.  This  multiphcaUon 
ever  going  on  in  fantastic  proportions,  is  designed  to 
exalt  more  and  more  the  greatness  of  the  master,  as 
though  indefinite  subdivision  were  not  of  necessity  a 
diminution.  The  numerous  pre-e>;istences  of  Buddha 
are  really  so  much  taken  from  his  greatness.  They  show, 
after  all,  that  he  has  not  truly  attained  Nirvana,  since  he 
has  to  begin  to  live  again.  One  is  surprised  to  find  it 
said  that  "  Buddha  also  was  tossed  about  in  this  trouble- 
some world,  after  having  been  born  into  the  midst  of  the 
degradation  of  the  creatures,  and  having  previously  taught 
them  the  great  law  of  peace."  ^ 

If  he  had  found  this  law  for  himself  and  for  others, 
why  must  he  start  again  on  the  quest  ?  The  miserable 
life  of  men  reaches  backward  in  periods  or  Kalpas  which 
include  hundreds  of  thousands  of  years.  And  in  spite 
of  the  consolation  imparted  by  the  teaching  of  millions  of 
Buddhas,  it  has  no  guarantee  that  its  misery  may  not  be 
prolonged  through  the  countless  Kalpas  of  the  future. 

It  needs  then  that  the  healthful  rain  of  the  law  should 
be  ever  falling  upon  a  land  consumed  with,  the  flames  of 
desire,  and  where  birth  still  brings  old  age  and  death. 
The  successive  manifestations  of  Buddha  are  an  avowal 
of  their  failure.  Not  only  can  hummity  not  succeed  in 
curing  the  ills  of  life,  it  cannot  even  die  outright.  Anni- 
hilation, which  should  be  the  end  of  all  chimeras,  is  itself 
only  another  illusion.  These  doubts  must  have  crossed 
the  minds  of  the  followers  of  Buddha,  but  they  have  left 
no  trace  except  in  the  writings  of  some  of  their  deeper 
and  more  subtle  thinkers. 

The  powerful  organisation  of  the  Buddhist  monastery, 
with  its  assertion  of  inflexible  authority,  long  maintciined 
the  unity  of  doctrine  by  tabooing  awkward  questions  and 
reasonable  doubts. 

We  have  already  spoken  of  the  order  of  Mendicants 
constituted  by  Buddha  himself  It  exercised  an  ever- 
growing influence.     The   Mendicant    or  Buddhist    monk, 

'  "  Lalita-Vistara,"  p.  ^.x. 


2 -.2     THE  A  NCI  EXT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANTTY. 


became  a  person  of  supreme  importance.  He  received 
his  teaching  direct  from  the  Buddhas,  who  made  him 
hear  the  deep  quiet  harmony  of  their  voices,  that  they 
might  lead  him  more  quickly  than  any  other  creatures 
Vv'hose  heart  is  broken  by  the  sorrows  of  this  earthly 
life,  into  the  supreme  calm  of  Nirvana/ 

Those  who  embraced  a  religious  life  were  not  allowed 
to  wear  any  dress  except  rags  collected  in  cemeteries,  and 
these  rags  they  had  to  sew  together  with  their  own  hands. 
A  3'ellow  cloak  was  to  be  thrown  over  their  rags.  They 
were  to  cut  close  the  hair  and  beard,  and  live  in  forests, 
not  in  cities,  and  their  only  shelter  was  to  be  the  shadow 
of  a  tree.  There  they  were  to  sit,  to  spread  their  carpet, 
but  not  to  lie  down  even  during  sleep.  Some  gave 
abundant  alms,  others  taught  the  law  of  progressive 
annihilation. 

The  great  difference  between  the  Buddhist  monk  and 
the  Brahman  was,  that  the  former  sought  his  disciples  in 
all  classes,  and  attached  no  merit  or  supernatural  efficacy 
to  the  practices  of  asceticism.  In  speaking  of  the  Brahmans 
the  Buddhist  says :  "  They  take  that  to  be  a  refuge 
which  is  no  refuge,  and  that  for  a  benediction  which  is 
no  benediction.^ 

We  find  no  trace  of  any  sacerdotal  rites  anong  the 
Buddhist  Mendicants.  They  are  neither  -thaumaturgi 
nor  priests,  and  lay  no  claim  to  be  mediators  between 
God  and  man.  The  god  himself  indeed  has  no  real 
existence.  The  Buddhist  monk  is  a  penitent  and  a 
preacher.  Nothing  can  be  more  simple  than  his  worship. 
It  consists  in  reciting  a  sort  of  office,  presenting  an  offer- 
ing of  flowers,  and  keeping  lamps  burning  before  the 
image  or  the  shrine  of  Buddha.  Though  poor  as  indivi- 
duals, the  Buddhist  Mendicants  accepted  wealth  for  their 
monasteries.  The  large  properties  which  they  thus  held 
collectively,  enabled  them  to  erect  splendid  monuments 
commemorative  of  the  life  of  the  Master. 

Buddhist  monasticism  became  a  great  institution.  The 
ideal  of  the  life  is  beautifully  rendered,  as  we  have  already 
said,  in  the  following  lines  : 

"  Lalita-Vistara,"  p.  6.  "  "Lotus  de  la  bonne  loi,"  p.  205. 


BUDDHA.  253 


"That  Mendicant  whose  life  is  love, 
Whose  joy,  the  teachings  of  Buddha, 
He  will  enter  the  tranquil  lot, 
Nirvana's  bliss,  where  the  Sanskaras  end."  ' 

The  rainy  season  was  spent  in  the  monastery.  At  its 
close  the  Mendicants  dispersed  through  the  country  to 
carry  on  their  mission. 

The  most  important  events  in  the  history  of  the  Buddhist 
monasteries  are  the  three  great  Councils  which  fixed  their 
doctrine.  The  first  was  held  near  Rajagriha  in  the 
year  following  the  death  of  the  Master.  Five  hundred 
members  are  said  to  have  there  met  in  council. 

It  is  impossible  to  say  precisely  what  was  decided  upon, 
or  to  what  extent  the  tradition  was  then  fixed.  The 
second  Council  took  place  at  Vaisali  a  hundred  years  later. 
In  this,  questions  of  monastic  casuistry  seem  to  have  been 
the  chief  subject  of  discussion. 

The  keen  controversies  to  which  they  gave  rise,  led 
to  two  more  conflicting  Councils.  The  last  of  these 
excommunicated  the  more  rigid  party.  The  third  great 
Council  was  held  at  Patna  under  the  Constantine  of 
Buddhism,  King  Acoka,  who  three  centuries  before  Christ, 
about  the  year  250,  made  Buddhism  a  veritable  state 
religion.  The  grandson  of  King  Chandragupta,  who 
had  driven  the  Greeks  out  of  India  and  defeated  Seleucus 
on  the  banks  of  the  Hyphasis,  he  embraced  the  Buddhist 
religion,  which  was  the  more  attractive  to  him  because  he 
himself  was  not  of  noble  race. 

The  Council  of  Patna,  at  which  many  thousands  were 
present,  lasted  seven  months.  The  doctrine  and  rules  of 
the  Buddhist  religion  were  revised  and  codified.  The  king 
himself  promulgated  its  decisions  as  the  only  ones  in 
harmony  with  the  sacred  tradition  which  was  of  supreme 
authority.     A  catalogue  of  sacred  books  was  drawn  up. 

Agoka  has  preserved  for  us  in  monumental  inscriptions 
engraved  on  the  rocks  in  many  parts  of  India,  the  faithful 
expression  of  the  religious  ideas  which  he  wished  to  promul- 
gate. In  them  we  find,  as  might  be  expected,  a  Bud- 
dhism much  broadened  and  toned  down,  to  meet  the 
feelings  of  the  great  body  of  the  nation.     The  m.etaphysical 

*  Rhys  Davids,  "Buddhisir,"  p.  154. 


254     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

side  is  left  in  the  shade.  There  is  no  allusion  to  Nirvana  : 
all  turns  on  social  morality.^  We  have  first  injunctions 
bearing  upon  the  observances  most  cherished  by  the 
Buddhists,  the  respect  due  to  all  forms  of  life  and  the  con- 
sequent prohibition  to  kill  any  animal.  The  king  desired 
that  his  country  should  be  largely  hospitable.  He  was 
careful  to  multiply  everywhere  useful  trees  and  medicinal 
herbs.  He  planted  by  the  roadsides,  gardens  of  mango- 
trees,  and  sunk  wells  and  made  pools  of  water  for  the  con- 
venience of  travellers.^ 

Respect  for  all  living  creatures,  and  gentleness  towards 
all  men  are  strictly  enjoined.^  The  king's  surveyors  are 
charged  to  be  the  protectors  of  the  weak,  to  comfort  the 
prisoner,  and  to  succour  him  if  he  has  a  family.  The 
king  is  the  mover  in  everything.  "  It  is  my  duty,"  he 
says,  "  to  secure  the  public  weal  by  my  counsels.  Now 
the  source  of  the  public  weal  lies  in  the  administration  of 
justice."  "All  my  efforts  have  but  one  end  in  view, 
namely,  to  pay  this  debt  which  the  divine  owes  to  the 
creatures."  *  "  In  the  past,  kings  went  out  for  their  own 
pleasure,  for  the  chase  and  other  diversions,  but  in  the 
end  of  my  reign  I  have  come  to  the  true  understanding. 
My  pleasure  consists  in  visiting  and  giving  alms  to  the 
Brahmans  and  to  the  aged,  and  religious  instruction  to 
my  people."  ^ 

"My  principle  is  this:  government  by  religion,  pro- 
gress by  religion,  security  by  religion." 

Religion,  as  understood  by  the  king,  does  not  consist 
in  vain  rites,  for  these  are  like  a  bag  of  dry  and  empty 
mangoes.  "The  practice  of  religion  consists  in  care  for 
slaves  and  servants,  almsgiving  and  respect  to  parents.' 

'  M.  Senart  has  given  a  translation  of  these  principal  edicts  in  the 
Journal  Asiatique  (1880 — 1885).  Tliey  are  placed  under  the  name 
Piyadasi,  which  is  one  of  the  names  of  A^oka.  The  eminent  ciitic 
justly  observes  that  we  may  find  the  point  of  contact  between  the 
chronolog}'  of  India  and  that  of  Greece,  in  the  identification  of  the 
Sandracothcs  of  the  Greeks,  the  adversary  of  Seleucus,  with  Chandragupia, 
the  grandfather  of  A^oka.  We  are  thus  brought  to  the  middle  of  the 
third  century  B.C. 

''^  Journal  Asiatique,  18S0,  p.  287. 

^  Ibid.,  p.  236. 

*  Ibid.,  p.  267. 

*  Ibid.,  p.  317. 


BUDDHA.  255 

"  The  progress  of  religion  among  men  is  secured  in  two 
ways:  first,  by  positive  rules,  and  second  by  infusing  right 
sentiments  into  their  minds.  In  the  first  place  there 
must  be  obedience  to  positive  rules,  as  for  example  when 
1  forbid  the  killing  of  certain  animals,  and  give  many 
other  direct  religious  prescriptions.  But  it  is  only  by  a 
change  in  the  feelings  of  the  man  himself,  that  there  is 
marked  progress  in  religion,  in  the  general  respect  for  life, 
and  in  carefulness  not  to  sacrifice  any  creature  whatsoever. 
It  is  to  this  end  that  I  have  graven  this  inscription  on  the 
rock,  that  it  may  go  down  to  my  sons  and  grandsons,  and 
endure  as  long  as  the  sun."  ^ 

What  a  lofty  idea  of  kinghood  we  get  from  the 
following  words  :  "  For  this  end  this  religious  inscription 
was  graven,  that  our  sons  and  grandsons  may  not  think 
they  ought  to  make  fresh  conquests.  That  they  may  not 
think  that  conquest  by  the  arrow  deserves  the  name;  that 
they  may  look  upon  it  as  only  disturbance  and  violence. 
That  they  may  consider  nothing  a  true  conquest,  but  the 
conquests  of  religion.  These  avail  for  this  world  and  the 
other.  Let  them  seek  all  their  diversions  in  the  pleasures 
of  religion  ;  for  these  are  good  for  both  worlds."  Here  is 
an  inscription  which  raises  us  far  above  a  merely  political 
religion.  "  Listen  to  the  words  of  King  Piyadasi,  beloved 
of  the  Devas  :  Each  man  sees  only  his  own  good  actiotis  ; 
he  says  to  himself,  '  I  have  done  a  good  deed.'  On  the 
other  hand,  he  does  not  see  the  ill  he  does.  He  does  not 
say  to  himself,  '  I  have  done  this  or  that  evil  thing.'  It 
-is  true  that  this  scrutiny  is  painful;  and  yet  it  is  necessary 
to  examine  oneself  and  to  say:  'Such  and  such  acts  are 
sins,  such  as  anger,  cruelty,  passion,  pride.  We  must 
keep  a  jealous  watch  over  ourselves,  and  say,  '  I  will  not 
yield  to  envy ;  I  will  not  speak  evil ;  this  shall  be  for  my 
greatest  good  here  below ;  and  it  shall  be  indeed  my 
greatest  good  in  the  world  to  come."  ^ 

Is  there  not  a  touching  philanthropy  in  this  inscription 
also  ?  "  From  this  day  I  make  the  following  rule  :  '  To 
the  prisoners  who  have  been  judged  and  condemned  to 
death,  I  grant  a  reprieve  of  three  days  (before  the  execu- 

'  Journal  Asiatique,  1880,  p.  370. 
^  Ibid.,  r.  417. 


256     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 


tion).'  They  shall  be  warned  that  they  have  neither  more 
nor  less  than  this  to  live.  Warned  then  of  the  term  of 
their  existence,  they  will  give  alms  in  .view  of  the  future 
life,  or  will  fast.  I  desire,  indeed,  that  even  while  shut  up 
in  a  dungeon,  they  should  make  sure  of  what  is  be3'ond. 
I  desire  to  see  them  fulfilling  the  various  duties  of  religion, 
gaining  the  dominion  over  the  senses  and  distributingalms." 

The  Buddhist  Constantine,  openly  proclaimed  liberty 
of  worship,  as  in  the  following  decree :  "  King  Piyadasi 
beloved  of  the  Devas,  wills  that  all  the  sects  may  dwell 
in  all  places.  All  set  before  them  the  same  end— the 
subjugation  of  the  senses  and  the  purity  of  the  soul. 
But  the  soul  is  diverse  in  its  will,  and  in  its  affections. 
Let  the  sects  then  observe  each  its  own  rules  in  whole 
or  in  part."  ^ 

Here  is  a  decree  still  higher  in  tone  :  "  King  Piyadasi 
beloved  of  the  Devas,  honours  all  the  sects.  He  honours 
them  by  almsgiving  and  by  every  token  of  respect.  But 
the  king  beloved  of  the  Devas,  attaches  less  importance 
to  these  alms  and  honours,  than  to  the  wish  to  see  the 
virtues  prevail  which  are  the  essential  parts  of  all  religions. 
It  is  true  that  in  these  essentials  there  will  be  great 
diversity.  But  the  one  virtue  all  may  have  in  common 
is  moderation  of  speech,  that  no  sect  should  exalt  itself 
and  decry  others ;  that  nothing  should  be  said  against 
any  without  good  cause,  that  on  the  contrary  every 
opportunity  should  be  taken  to  pay  due  honour  to  all. 
In  thus  acting,  each  sect  promotes  its  own  progress  while 
seeking  that  of  others."^ 

If  Buddhism  had  done  nothing  more  than  inspire  such 
maxims  of  government,  it  would  have  covered  itself 
with  eternal  honour.  This  wise  policy  was  nevertheless 
a  dereliction  from  the  doctrinal  standpoint.  If  it  had 
long  prevailed.  Buddhism  must  in  the  end  have  renounced 
alike  its  pessimism  and  its  charity,  that  is,  it  must  have 
denied  its  own  spirit. 

'  Journal  Asialique,  iSSo,  p.  132. 

^  That  which  gives  pecuhar  importance  to  the  decrees  of  A^oka  is 
their  analogy  with  a  buddhist  book  vvliich  has  a  canonic;il  value— the 
Pali  Dhammapada.  M.  Senart  conclutivcly  prc.es  this  analogy. 
{^Journal  Asiatique,  April,  1SS5,  p.  410  j 


BUDDHA.  257 

It  is  not  for  us  to  inquire  into  the  circumstances  (\v!  i:h 
are  indeed  sufficiently  obscure,)  leading  to  its  proscrip- 
tion in  India.  Suffice  it  to  say  it  still  held  its  own  in 
Ceylon  in  the  south,  and  in  Nepaul  and  Thibet  in  the 
north  ;  and  was  subsequently  adopted  by  the  vast  popula- 
tions of  China  and  Indo-China.  During  the  long  period 
from  the  time  of  Agoka  to  the  conquests  which  carried 
it  into  the  extreme  East,  it  lost  more  and  more  of  what 
had  been  the  secret  of  its  charm  and  its  power — that 
element  of  humanity  so  striking  in  Buddha  himself  The 
legend  of  his  life  underwent  great  alterations  and  became 
more  and  more  mixed  up  with  the  solar  myths.  From 
them  were  taken  the  signs  by  which  the  Buddhas  were 
recognised,  and  most  of  the  principal  episodes  of  his  life 
were  made  to  bear  some  such  naturalistic  explanation. 
It  would  be  a  great  mistake  however  to  allow  his  person- 
ality to  be  resolved  into  this  fantastic  mythological  creation, 
as  though  there  had  been  nothing  real  and  human  at  the 
commencement  of  this  great  movement,  which  loses  all  its 
originality  if  it  is  severed  from  its  founder.^ 

Whatever  transformation  passed  over  primitive  Bud- 
dhism under  the  withering  breath  of  subtle  speculation 
and    puerile    legend,    it    nevertheless    preserved    in    spite 

'  M.  Senart  has  devoted  the  whole  of  his  learned  book,  "  La  legende 
de  Bouddha,"  to  showing  how  the  events  of  the  life  of  Cakyamuni 
can  be  brought  into  the  cycle  of  the  solar  mythology.  His  supernatural 
birth,  his  leaving  his  palace,  his  conflict,  his  triumph,  the  ten  signs 
by  which  he  is  known,  and  which  have  all  a  solar  meaning,  the  myriad- 
rayed  wheel  which  he  sets  in  motion,  his  disappearance  in  Nirvana, 
wiiich  represents  the  setting  of  the  star,  all  appear  to  the  learned 
author  to  indicate  the  constant  identification  of  Buddha,  as  of  all  the 
gods  of  India,  with  the  immortal  Agni,  the  sun-god.  We  do  not  deny 
that  the  legend  of  Buddha  came  in  the  end  to  be  cast  in  the  uniform 
mould  of  Indian  thought.  Nevertheless,  it  cannot  be  denied  tliat 
Buddhism  had  its  own  new  and  special  province.  There  v\as  in  it  an 
original  element,  not  found  in  the  antecedent  mythologies.  This  new 
element  is  just  the  individuality,  the  personal  influence  of  its  founder, 
Is  not  this  clear  from  M.  Senart's  ov.'n  conclusions  ?  He  says : — ■ 
"Buddhism  introduced  into  the  ideas  and  practices  of  its  i'ollowers  a 
new  doctrine  and  a  human  master,  in  place  of  the  old  divine  masters. 
But  the  popular  imagination  took  its  revenge.  Religious  tradition  mani- 
fested after  its  wont,  its  indestructible  vitality.  On  Cakj'amuni 
devolved  the  legendary  mantle  which  fell  from  the  shoulders  of  the 
dethroned  god  ;  and  the  timid  Indians  gladly  laid  hold  again  of  the 
consolation  and  hope  of  divine  visitations  in  human  form.'' — Senart, 
"La  legende  de   Bouddha."  p.  45S. 

17 


^ 


258     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

of  all,  its  own  peculiar  type.  Undoubtedly,  popular 
superstition  has  made  of  it  in  many  respects,  a  gross 
mythology  ;  and  Buddha  has  been  exalted  into  an 
idol,  though  he  himself  repudiated  belief  in  any  god 
whatsoever.  To-day  we  see  hundreds  of  millions  of  men 
bowing  before  an  image  of  Buddha  which  bears  no  kind  of 
likeness  to  his  true  ideal  ;  a  motionless,  vacant-eyed  giant, 
sunk  in  unconsciousness,  the  features  expressing  only  a 
dull,  blank  indifference,  without  a  smile  or  ray  of  inward 
light ;  and  we  feel  how  low  the  race  must  have  sunk 
under  the  pressure  of  an  immense  despair,  to  prostrate 
itself  before  this  dreary  symbol  of  moral  and  intellectual 
nothingness.  This  then  is  the  issue  of  that  brilliant 
naturism  which  has  no  life  in  itself  and  can  impart  none, 
so  long  as  man  does  not  recognise  the  principle  of  the 
divine  above  him  and  in  the  depth  of  his  consciousness. 
The  gods  of  light  and  of  fruitfulness  are  not  true  gods  ; 
the  absolute  is  not  in  them.  Thus  when  man  falls 
back  into  pantheistic  naturism,  from  the  heights  of  moral 
good  of  which  he  has  caught  a  momentary  glimpse,  he 
finds  himself  in  a  region  of  death  and  emptiness.  The 
holy  inspiration  of  love  cannot  long  warm  these  realms  of 
the  eternal  void.  Buddha  is  in  truth  the  anti-Messiah, 
the  only  one  whom  nature  left  to  herself,  can  offer  to 
man.  The  true  Messiah  is  He  who  redeems  and  restores 
the  natural  no  less  than  the  spiritual  life.  All  the 
attempts  made  to  combine  the  two  Messiahs  in  an  im- 
possible syncretism,  are  frustrated  by  the  stubbornness 
of  facts.^ 

India,  which  had  at  times  anticipated  and  cried  out  for 
the  great  God  of  conscience  and  of  broken  hearts,  the 
Deliverer  of  the  future,  fell  under  the  spell  of  pantheistic 
metaphysics.  Hence  her  only  Messiah  was  the  Messiah 
of  the  great  void.  She  lighted  up  the  vacuum  at  first  with 
a  warm  ray  of  love  £nd  pity  ;  but  it  soon  flickered  down 
and  died,  leaving  her  desolate  at  the  feet  of  her  dreary 
Buddha,  who  failed  to  convey  to  her  even  the  gift  of 
oblivion,  or  to  perfect  the  illusion  of  absolute  absorption. 
Thus,  as  we  have  seen,  she  is  ever  crying  out  for  fresh 

'  For  a  striking  illustration  of  this  see  "The  Light  of  Asia,"  by  Edwin 
Arnold. 


BUDDHA.  259 

incarnations  of  the  Master.  Why  should  she  desire  these 
if  the  first  Buddha  had  been  able  to  fulfil  his  mission  ? 
It  follows  that  annihilation  itself  is  an  illusion.  The 
problem,  stated  by  this  race,  so  bold  in  its  metaphysical 
speculations,  has  remained  unsolved. 

We  must  not  suppose  that  this  rcdiidio  ad  absiirdum 
of  naturism  in  a  land  which  seemed  singularly  adapted  for 
its  triumph,  was  confined  to  India  and  had  no  effect  upon 
the  general  development  of  the  ancient  world  on  the  eve 
of  the  coming  of  Christ.  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  at 
this  period,  there  were  no  longer  any  impassable  barriers 
between  East  and  West.  The  wind  wiiich  blew  from  Asia, 
carried  to  the  very  heart  of  Greco-Roman  civilisation,  the 
moans  of  despair  uttered  in  the  valley  of  the  Ganges.  Thus 
in  the  evening  of  the  day  of  preparation,  Buddhism  did 
much  to  destroy  the  beliefs  of  the  past,  and  to  create  in 
the  souls  of  men  a  mournful  void  which  silently  pleaded 
for  a  new  faith. 


BOOK   IV. 
HELLENIC  PAGANISM. 


CHAPTER   I. 

FIRST    PERIOD. 

THE  naturism  of  the  Aryans  assumes  a  new  character 
as  it  touches  the  shores  of  Greece,  and  commences 
an  evolution  in  the  course  of  which  it  becomes  altogether 
transformed.^  When  it  was  first  introduced  into  Greece 
in  a  dim  past  which  defies  chronology,  it  was  simply  the 
religion  common  to  all  the  primitive  Ayrans,  which  we 
have  found  to  be  identical  both  in  Iran  and  on  the  shores 
of  the  Indus.  But  in  Greece  naturism  is  soon  outgrown, 
and  all  but  superseded,  so  far  at  least  as  it  can  be  so, 
apart  from  a  complete  monotheism.  It  is  no  longer 
simply  modified  by  the  vague  anthropomorphism  of  oriental 
religions,  which  is  a  mere  metaphor,  for  it  does  not 
transform  the  forces  of  nature  into  moral  personalities,  but 
only  invests  them  with  some  human  attributes,  leaving 
them  still  under  the  dominion  of  a  fatal  necessity.  These 
religions  are  only  traversed  now  and  again  by  a  flash  of 
moral  consciousness,  as  suddenly  vanishing  into  darkness. 
In  Greece  we  have  true  humanism,  a  thing  of  a  much 
higher  order.     The  Greek  divinity  is  essentially  human. 


'  Our  chief  source  of  information  is  Greek  literature  itself.  To  this  we 
shall  have  constantly  to  refer  our  readers.  We  quote  only  the  principal 
authorities  more  or  less  recent  bearing  on  the  subject.  For  Greek  history  we 
have  availed  ourselves  of  Grote's,  and  Curtius'  "  History  of  Greece."  For 
the  literature  and  religion  of  Greece  we  refer  to  "  History  of  the  Literature 
of  Ancient  Greece,"  H.  O.  Mi'dlci;  and  "  Kunstarchaeologische  Werke," 
by  the  same.  L.  von  Rank,  "  Universal  History."  Dunker,  "Geschichte 
des  Alterthums."  F.  Creiize,  "  Symbolik  and  Mythologie  der  alten 
Voelker,  besonders  der  Griechen."  L.  F.A. Maury,  "  Histoire  des  religions 
de  la  Grece  antique."  L.  Preller,  "  Griechische  Mj'thologie."  P.  Decharme, 
"Mythologie  de  la  Grece  antique."  Jules  Girard,  "  Le  sentiment 
religieuse  en  Gr^ce,  d'Hom6re  a  Eschyle."  E.  Havet,  "Le  Christianisme 
et  ses  origines.' 


264     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 


He  is  man  at  his  highest  and  best,  at  first  with  all  the 
admixture  of  good  and  evil  common  to  men,  but  gradually 
becoming  spiritualised  and  idealised,  till  at  length  he  exhibits 
the  triumph  of  the  moral  element,  which  in  the  depths  of 
man's  being  unites  the  human  to  the  divine. 

We  know,  indeed,  that  these  human  gods  retained  too 
many  traces  of  their  naturalistic  origin  to  inhabit  per- 
manently a  purely  spiritual  region.  They  never  brought 
the  lower  elements  in  human  nature  entirely  into  subjec- 
tion to  its  higher  aspirations.  Hence  they  did  not  long 
remain  on  the  serene  heights,  to  which  they  were  raised 
by  the  genius  of  Greece  in  the  noblest  era  of  its  art, 
philosophy,  and  poetry.  The  ideal  perceived  for  a  moment, 
soon  vanishes,  leaving  a  blank  of  dull  disappointment  in 
the  hearts  of  those  who  adoringly  beheld  the  vision. 
They  fall  back  instinctively  upon  the  religious  conceptions 
of  the  past,  however  inferior  to  the  beliefs  of  a  grander 
age,  because  they  imagine  that  they  can  thus  regain  the 
faith  which  seems  slipping  from  their  grasp.  These  old 
conceptions  of  the  Divine  reappear  in  the  mysterious  rites 
which  filled  so  important  a  place  in  Hellenism,  and  by 
which  the  Greeks  vainly  sought  to  quiet  their  troubled 
conscience.  We  shall  see  this  race  supposed  to  be  so 
frivolous  and  gay,  by  those  who  judge  of  it  only  by  its 
brilliant  aestheticism,  really  manifesting  more  than  any 
other,  the  longing  for  pardon  and  expiation,  and  lifting 
with  feverish  eagerness  the  veil  which  hides  the  invisible. 
We  are  too  apt  to  think  of  Greece  as  though  her  whole 
nature  was  personified  in  the  enchanting  goddess  who, 
according  to  one  of  her  most  poetic  legends,  rises  from 
the  crest  of  the  waves  on  a  morning  in  spring,  in  all  the 
brilliancy  of  her  young  and  ideal  beauty,  with  the  smile 
upon  her  lips  which  is  the  joy  of  creation.  We  forget 
that  beneath  the  same  shining  sea  la}'-  the  land  of  shades, 
into  whose  mysterious  depths  the  Greek  gazed  hungrily, 
passionately  questioning  the  sphynx  who  kept  guard 
over  all  the  tombs,  and  seeking  with  unwearied  earnest- 
ness to  get  the  pangs  of  conscience  assuaged.  All  this  he 
did  in  his  own  way,  with  the  exquisite  sense  of  fitness 
inherent  in  his  genius.  These  sublime  and  often  sorrow- 
ful thoughts  did  not  prevent  him  from  developing  in  all 


FIRST  PERIOD.  265 


their  beauty,  those  incomparable  gifts  which  made  Greece 
the  grandest  exponent  of  high  art,  nor  from  displaying 
in  action  the  most  indomitable  energy. 

It  was  in  the  recognition  of  man  as  above  nature  and 
as  the  type  par  excellence  of  the  higher  life,  that  the 
moral  superiority  of  the  Greek  religion  consisted.  But 
before  this  height  was  reached,  it  was  necessary  that  the 
spontaneous  in  man  should  acquire  an  intensity  and 
energy,  which  should  render  it  capable  of  commanding  the 
forces  of  nature.  At  first,  nature  seems  to  overwhelm 
no  less  by  her  splendours  than  by  her  terrors.  The 
religious  evolution  which  ends  in  humanism,  begins  by 
stimulating  the  faculties  of  man  in  all  directions,  so  that 
conscious  of  his  own  strength  and  dignity,  he  may  stand 
erect  in  the  presence  of  the  greatness  of  nature.  It  is 
only  when  he  has  thus  lifted  up  himself  as  man,  that  a 
yet  deeper  and  higher  intuition  will  lead  him  to  recognise 
in  the  Ego,  Him  who  is  greater  than  the  Ego,^  the  unseen 
God  who  appeals  to  his  conscience.  Then  he  will  no 
longer  stand  erect  ;  his  knees  will  bow  in  holy  awe; 
he  will  seek  satisfaction  for  his  deepest  religious  con- 
victions ;  and  if  he  does  not  find  it,  he  will  give  vent  to 
what  M.  Renan  so  well  calls  "  the  prayer  of  the  earth  in 
travail,"  ^  unless  indeed  he  seeks  refuge  in  scepticism,  or 
in  a  life  of  pleasure.  Such,  briefly,  is  the  development 
of  the  religious  consciousness  of  Greece,  which  we  must 
now  follow  more  in  detail  in  its  successive  phases. 

We  shall  have  to  enquire  first,  what  were  the  causes 
which  produced  this  great  transformation  of  the  naturism 
brought  from  Asia  into  Greece  by  its  first  colonists,  and 
which  gradually  raised  it  into  humanism.  When  we  come 
to  the  mythological  development  of  Hellenism,  we  shall 
see  how  all  the  gods  of  the  Greek  pantheon  grew  up  out 
of  the  old  conceptions  of  Oriental  naturism.  There  is  not 
one  of  them  which  is  not  at  first  a  mere  force  or  particular 
aspect  of  nature ;  but  little  by  little,  this  elementary 
conception  is  lost  sight  of,  and  the  god  becomes  a  real 
personality,  invested  with  moral  attributes  which  constitute 
his  proper  and  distinctively  human  character. 

'  Charles  Secrctaxi.  ^  "Les  Apotres,"  p.  342. 


266     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

§   I. — Conditions  favourable  to  the  Development  of 
Humanism  in  Greece. 

The  beginnings  of  the  Greek  race  are  lost  in  the  mystery 
which  envelopes  all  pre-historic  times,  a  mystery  all  the 
deeper  in  this  case,  because  from  national  pride,  Greeks  have 
never  been  willing  to  acknowledge  any  other  cradle  than  the 
privileged  land  of  Greece.  It  is  certain  that  they  were  pre- 
ceded in  that  country  by  independent  tribes,  leading  the  life 
of  the  savage,  just  as  we  find  it  elsewhere.  At  some  distant 
period,  to  which  we  can  attach  no  date,  there  was  a  first 
migration  from  the  Himalayas  into  Greece,  bringing 
with  it  the  elements  of  primitive  civilisation  common  to 
all  the  Aryan  races.  Of  this  we  find  undoubted  traces  in 
the  words  which  the  Greek,  in  common  with  other  Indo- 
European  languages,  has  retained  to  describe  its  religious, 
agricultural,  and  social  life.  The  first  immigration  of 
the  future  Hellenes  seems  to  have  followed  that  which 
gave  birth  to  the  gre  it  nations,  first  of  the  Goths,  then  of 
the  Celts.  It  comprised  in  its  broad  afflux,  all  the  Graeco- 
Italicans  as  we  may  call  them.  While  a  considerable 
section  settled  in  the  Italian  peninsula,  another  flood  of 
immigrants  known  as  the  Pelasgi  occupied  what  is  now 
called  Greece.  The  Greeks  have  always  acknowledged  their 
kinship  with  the  Peksgi.  Peleus,  the  father  of  Achilles, 
invokes  in  the  Iliad,  the  Pelasgian  Zeus,  who  represents 
in  all  points  the  grea.  celestial  god  of  the  Aryans.^ 

The  Pelasgi  rapic'y  disappeared  from  history,  becom- 
ing merged  in  the  ilellenes  or  Greeks,  who  were  their 
direct  descendants.  The  name  of  Hellenes  suggests  the 
marshy  country  where  dwelt  the  inhabitants  of  Southern 
Thessaly,  and  that  of  Greeks  the  mountainous  regions 
occupied  by  others  of  the  Pelasgi.^ 

It  is  not  our  intention  to  sketch  the  history  of  the 
formation  of  the  Greek  nationality.  We  simply  note  that 
the  first  Oriental  iiiimigration  was  followed  by  others 
from  various  parts  oi"  the  mountains  of  Phrygia.  "  One 
division  took  the  Jandway  through  the  Hellespont's 
ancient  portal  of  the  i.ations;  they  passed  through  Thrace 

*  ZeO  ireXaffyiKi,  Iliad,  xvi.  v.  233.  *  Maury,  i,  29. 


FIRST  PERIOD.  2^7 


into  the  Alpine  land  of  northern  Greece.^ "  At  the  foot 
of  these  mountains  grew  up  the  powerful  tribe  of  the 
Dorians,  which  spread  over  central  Greece,  and  finally 
made  Sparta  their  capital.  According  to  the  national 
legend,  they  were  led  in  this  victorious  expedition  by 
the  Heraclidae,  the  descendants  of  the  greatest  and  most 
divine  of  heroes.  "  Others  descended  from  the  Phr3^gian 
tablelands  down  the  valleys  to  the  coasts  of  Asia  Minor." 
On  these  enchanted  shores  the  Ionian  race  blossomed  out 
like  a  splendid  flower,  promising  rich  fruit.  From  thence, 
these  Asiatic  lonians  spread  under  the  name  of  the  Leleges 
along  the  seaboard  of  the  Mediterranean.  They  settled 
in  large  numbers  in  Attica,  the  favoured  land  where  their 
nationality  found  its  finest  developments.  When  it  had 
reached  its  culminating  point,  it  sent  back  its  surplus 
population  to  those  shores  of  Asia  Minor,  whence  it  had 
sprung,  and  returned  with  interest  in  civilisation  and 
wealth  all  that  it  had   brought    away. 

The  Hellenic  nationality  includes  also  two  other  less 
important  tribes  :  the  Achaeans,  settled  at  first  in  the 
Peloponnesus,  and  the  .<Eolians,  a  mixture  of  various 
races. 

The  Greeks  in  the  earlier  stages  of  their  development 
as  a  nation,  were  greatly  influenced  by  the  Phoenicians, 
whose  ships  sailed  on  all  waters,  leaving  in  their  track 
numerous  colonies  which  diffused  their  religion  and 
civilisation ;  sometimes  forming  regular  settlements,  as 
at  Thebes,  more  frequently  spreading  themselves  among 
the  islands  and  along  the  seaboard.  They  left  on  the 
mind  of  Greece,  a  fresh  mythological  deposit,  so  to  speak, 
like  that  which  Phrygia  had  herself  received  from  Chaldea 
and  Egypt.  It  is  to  these  daring  voyagers  that  Greece 
owes  the  worship  of  the  great  sea  gods  Aphrodite  and 
Poseidon  (who  was  at  first  only  the  Tyrian  Melkart),  and 
probably  also  the  first  legend  of  Hercules.  With  her 
peculiar  power  of  transforming  everything  into  her  own 
image,  and  setting  her  impress  even  on  that  which  was 
not  her  own  creation,  Greece  rapidly  eliminated  from 
these  sensuous  and  sanguinary  religions,  all  that  was  not 


'  Curtius,  vol.  i.  p.  37. 


268     TH^  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

in  accordance  with  her  own  genius.  She  soon  shook  off 
this  alien  influence  also,  which  had  fulfilled  its  purpose 
in  stimulating  her  thought.  Some  of  her  most  familiar 
heroic  legends  set  forth  this  emancipation.  This  is 
obviously  the  meaning  of  the  victory  of  Theseus  over 
the  gloomy  Cretan  Minotaur,  who  is  no  other  than  the 
Asiatic  Moloch  athirst  for  sacrifices  of  blood.^ 

Such    were   the    influences    from    v/ithout   which    told 
powerfully  upon  the  Hellenic  race. 

Let  us  endeavour  to  seize  some  of  its  characteristic 
traits,  those  brilliant  qualities  which  were  to  make  it  for 
so  long  mistress  of  the  ancient  world.  To  us  Greece  seems 
to  represent  the  very  ideal  of  humanity,  not  of  humanity 
renewed,  transfigured  in  the  perfection  of  moral  beauty 
(this  the  world  has  only  seen  once,  and  then  among  a  race 
very  different  from  the  Greeks  and  far  less  richly  gifted) ; 
but  of  natural  humanity,  so  to  speak,  as  it  may  be  normally 
developed  under  existing  conditions,  with  all  its  powers 
in  vigorous  and  harmonious  exercise.  Greece  represented 
humanity  with  its  weaknesses  ;  but  of  these  she  was  at 
least  conscious,  and  this  very  consciousness  urged  her 
to  ceaseless  aspiration  after  a  higher  state,  which  was 
to  her  the  recalling  of  a  mysterious  and  beautiful  past. 
Hence  she  represented  natural  humanity  as  it  has  never 
been  represented  before  or  since.  She  expressed  better 
than  any  other  race,  its  highest  aspirations  so  often 
blended  with  tragic  fears. 

In  the  first  place,  Greece  possessed  in  an  exceptional 
degree,  the  gift  of  beauty.  It  may  truly  be  said  that  the 
mould  of  the  human  form,  as  reproduced  by  her,  has  never 
been  broken.  Where  else  can  we  find  proportions  so 
perfect,  combining  in  so  harmonious  a  whole  ?  "Where 
else  do  we  see  such  dignity  of  carriage,  such  a  proud 
yet  graceful  setting  of  the  head  ?  "  Never  thus  did  slave 
lift  up  his  head,"  ^  said  the  Greek  in  the  pride  of  his  beauty. 
He  felt  himself  free  not  only  from  the  domination  of 
capricious  masters,  but  from  the  no  less  fatal  plasticity 
to  the  demands  of  his  own  animal  organism.  Beauty  of 
form  in  this  degree  of  perfection,  is  the  triumph  of  mind 


Rankc,  Universal  History,  p.  I20.  »  Theognis,  v.  537.. 


FIRST  PERIOD.  269 


over  brute  matter  even  in  its  mightiest  manifestations.  It 
may  be  said  of  Greece  herself  as  she  appears  personi- 
fied in  the  immortal  marbles  which  still  preserve  for  us 
the  divine  smile  of  her  beauty  :  Incessu  paiiiit  Dea.  In 
her  we  behold  the  true  Venus  Vidn'x,  the  humanised 
divinity,  who  is  to  take  the  place  of  the  monstrous  and 
shameless  Astarte.  In  order  to  realise  a  divine  ideal, 
Greece  has  only  to  reproduce  the  enchanting  image  ever 
before  her  eyes. 

This  she  did  with  surpassing  skill.  High  art  brought 
out  the  true  value  of  that  plastic  beauty  in  which  humanism 
was  already  expressing  itself  in  form.  The  genius  of 
the  artist,  when  it  is  truly  creative,  as  it  was  among 
the  Greeks,  is  itself  a  triumph  of  man  over  nature. 
When  art  attains  this  degree  of  perfection,  it  no  longer 
gives  us  a  mere  reproduction  of  natural  beauty.  The 
artist  chooses,  combines,  brings  out  from  the  confused 
mass  of  details,  the  supreme  beauty  which  is,  so  to  speak, 
their  essential  idea,  their  raison  d'etre^  according  to  the 
great  thought  of  Aristotle,  who  makes  form  the  end  and 
aim  of  the  natural  life.  Thus  to  interpret  nature  by 
idealising  it,  is  to  rise  superior  to  it,  to  bring  it  into  sub- 
jection to  the  thought  which  holds  within  itself  the  type 
of  the  beautiful.  It  is  to  assert  the  kingship  of  man  over 
nature.  We  shall  see  presently  how  intuition  of  a  higher 
order  blended  in  the  mind  of  the  Greek  with  this  aesthetic 
sense.  True  sestheticism  consists  in  bringing  out  the 
harmony  of  things  often  hidden  under  the  multiplicity  ot 
phenomena  and  lost  in  their  detail. 

This  sense  of  the  beautiful,  so  natural  to  man,  stands 
in  close  relation  to  the  intelligence,  which  after  taking 
cognisance  of  the  various  objects  of  knowledge,  grasps 
the  link  of  connection  between  them,  so  as  to  be  able  to 
turn  them  to  account  in  the  struggle  for  life.  Among  the 
Greeks  this  intelligence  was  very  keen.  They  possessed 
at  once  the  swift  perception  of  genius,  and  that  faculty  ot 
coirc  -ntration  in  which  its  strength  lies. 

The  moral  conception  of  Greece  was  free  from  any 
touch  of  sacerdotalism,  and  embraced  the  whole  life.  But 
here,  as  in  the  ancient  East,  conscience  asserted  itself  in 
later  times,  and  made  feeble,  ineffectual  attempts  after  an 


270     THE  ANCIENl   WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

unattainable  ideal.  This  was  not,  however,  till  the  days 
of  the  full  maturity  of  the  nation. 

We  may  add  that  the  Greek  is  not  a  dreamer  lost  in 
reverie,  or  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  nature,  which 
is  a  virtual  abdication  by  man  of  his  power  over  her. 
He  was  a  creature  of  rapid  decision  and  unhesitating 
action.  His  heart  swelled  with  a  manly  courage  which 
bade  him  dare  danger.  He  acted  as  he  thought,  swiftly 
and  decidedly. 

This  native  humanism  so  remarkable  among  the  Greeks, 
was  the  great  factor  in  their  religion,  which  they  fashioned 
in  their  own  likeness.  So  abundant  were  the  gifts  of 
nature  to  them,  that  no  race  so  represented  the  bright  and 
smiling  3''outh  of  humanity  with  its  wealth  of  blossom. 
Their  season  was  indeed  but  short  in  that  favoured  nook 
of  earth,  but  such  a  vision  of  beauty,  however  brief, 
remains  a  joy  for  ever.  The  most  fugitive  moments  oi 
our  life  are  sometimes  those  fullest  of  immortality. 

The  genius  of  Greece  found  a  perfect  organ  of  expres- 
sion in  her  language.^ 

There  are  other  tongues  more  sonorous,  more  brilliant, 
but  there  are  none  which  form  so  lucid  a  medium  of  phi- 
losophic thought,  none  which  express  with  such  subtle- 
ness and  flexibility  not  only  the  exact  aspect  of  things, 
but  "  the  most  delicate  distinctions  of  the  conditioned  and 
the  unconditioned,  the  possible  and  the  actual."  ^ 

Its  great  strength  lies  in  the  verb.  "  The  entire  con- 
servative force  of  the  Greek  language  has  applied  itself 
to  verbal  forms ;  so  that  these  express  with  the  utmost 
facility  the  greatest  multiplicity  of  the  notions  of  time, 
its  point  and  duration,  and  the  completion  of  an  action  in 
itself"  ^  "  The  whole  language  resembles  the  body  of  an 
artistically  trained  athlete,  in  which  every  muscle,  every 
sinew,  is  developed  into  full  play,  where  there  is  no 
trace  of  tiniidity,  or  of  inert  matter,  and  all  is  power  and 
life."  " 

This  gifted  race  was  placed  in  an  environment  admir- 

■  "Le  plus  beau  qui  soit  ne  sur  des  levres  humaines."    Andre  Chenier. 
^  Curtius,  pp.  21,  22. 
^  Ibid.,  p.  22. 
*  Ibid.,  p.  24. 


FIRST  PERIOD. 


ably  fitted  to  develop  its  genius,  and  where  it  was  {\:(t& 
from  that  overpowering  domination  or  fascination  of  nature, 
to  which  man  had  elsewhere  succumbed.  The  country  of 
the  Hellenes  did  not  present,  like  Egypt  or  Central  Asia, 
vast  plains  on  which  the  individual  seemed  no  more  than 
a  grain  of  sand,  an  insignificant  unit  lost  in  the  masses, 
wdio  were  driven  in  herds  by  t3Tannical  masters,  to  till 
the  ground  for  them,  or  to  fight  their  battles. 

Separated  by  a  chain  of  mountains  on  the  north  from 
the  great  neighbouring  continent,  as  Italy  is  from  Central 
Europe  by  the  Alps,  the  country  is  essentially  insular  in 
character,  its  gracefully  indented  shores  abounding  with 
gulfs  and  natural  harbours.  Bounded  on  the  north  by 
the  Eastern  Alps,  Greece  dips  on  the  south  at  three  points 
into  the  Mediterranean,  almost  in  the  latitude  of  Gibraltar 
and  opposite  the  most  fertile  provinces  of  Africa  and  Asia, 
to  which  it  approaches  also  through  its  islands.  The 
Peloponnesus  forms  a  peninsula.  Central  Greece  descends 
in  many  gentle  slopes  into  Attica.  It  is  admirably  a*dapted 
for  division  into  small  states,  each  distinct  from  the  other 
and  having  its  own  natural  boundaries.  The  climate 
being  the  same  for  all,  they  all  form  part  of  the  same 
country  while  each  retaining  its  own  character.  The 
nature  of  the  soil  requires  constant  but  not  arduous  tillage. 

The  sea  invites  the  dwellers  on  its  shores  to  daring 
enterprise.  It  is  the  great  high  road  of  the  world,  binding 
man  to  man  with  its  water-ways,  as  says  Homer.  Such 
a  land  was  well  adapted  to  develop  bold  and  manly 
activit}^  As  the  great  geographer,  Ritter  has  said, 
Greece  in  its  structure  resembles  the  human  hand,  that 
marvellous  instrument  of  intelligent  action. 

The  country  of  the  Hellenes  was  not  only  perfectly 
adapted  to  foster  a  progressive  civilisation  ;  it  also  grati- 
fied the  aesthetic  sense.  The  beauty  of  the  country  does  not 
consist  in  the  massive  grandeur  of  its  mountains,  or  the 
immensity  of  its  forests,  as  in  India,  but  in  the  harmony 
of  its  undulating  outlines  and  the  softened  brilliancy  of  its 
atmosphere.  It  is  a  tender  beauty  which  man  can  feel 
without  being  overwhelmed  by  it;  immaterial,  subtle  as 
thought.  While  in  the  East  quantity  overrides  qualit}', 
and    the   gigantic   proportions    of  nature  overwhelm   the 


272     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

beholder  with  awe  rather  than  admiration,  the  very 
opposite  result  is  produced  in  Greece.  There  the  eye 
rests  delightedly  upon  rounded  forms,  and  gentle  undu- 
lations, outlined  against  a  softly  irridiscent  sky,  which 
bears  no  resemblance  to  the  consuming  glare  of  the  sun 
in  Asia  or  Africa. 

The  political  and  social  constitution  adopted  in  the  chief 
cities  of  Greece,  also  helped  to  ensure  the  triumph  of 
humanism.  We  shall  only  refer  to  the  earlier  developments 
of  the  constitution,  in  so  far  as  they  laid  the  foundations 
of  the  Greek  city  par  excellence — Athens.  In  Sparta, 
after  the  triumph  of  the  Heraclidas  we  find  a  sort  of 
military  brotherhood,  at  the  head  of  which  were  two 
kings  whose  power  was  very  limited,  since  they  were 
dependent  on  two  archons,  removable  magistrates  repre- 
senting the  democratic  element.  Among  the  Dorians 
the  state  took  all  offices  upon  itself  It  was  landlord, 
schoolmaster,  the  regulator  of  the  life  of  every  man  down 
to  the  minutest  detail.  Yet  the  citizen  was  not  crushed 
as  beneath  the  yoke  of  Oriental  monarchies.  He  proudly 
preserved  his  dignity.  He  enjoyed  sufficient  leisure  to 
attend  to  public  affairs,  thanks  to  the  Helots,  the  class  of 
inhabitants  subjected  by  force  of  arms,  who  did  all  the 
menial  work  of  life.  He  had  a  share  in  the  choice  of 
the  authorities  whose  power  pressed  so  heavily  upon  him. 
Military  courage  raised  to  the  highest  point,  fostered 
feelings  of  heroism  within  him. 

It  was  in  Attica  that  the  constitution  of  the  Greek  city 
attained  the  highest  perfection  of  which  it  was  capable. 
We  pass  by  the  heroic  age,  to  which  we  shall  have  to 
refer  presently  when  we  come  to  speak  of  the  religious 
evolution,  over  which  it  exerted  a  very  direct  influence. 
From  legends  of  this  distant  past,  history  has  gathered 
the  memory  of  a  period  when  the  work  of  unification  in 
Attica  was  carried  on  under  the  leadership  of  bold  and 
powerful  chiefs,  kings  by  veritable  Divine  right,  for  they 
ruled  by  virtue  of  possessing  the  noblest  qualities  of 
their  race.  These  they  displayed  with  indomitable  cour- 
age in  the  sanguinary  wars  undertaken  by  Athens. 

The  constitution  which  bears  the  name  of  Solon,  and 
which  was  at  first  a  great  edict  of  pacification,  following 


FIRST  PERIOD.  273 


on  a  period  of  tumult  when  more  than  once  the  monarch 
had  become  a  tyrant,  presents  an  admirable  blending  c 
aristocracy  and  democracy.  All  the  citizens  had  a  shr= 
in  the  state ;  but  Solon  made  income  the  standard  c . 
political  rights,  income  being  not  the  amount  of  coined 
money  possessed,  but  the  revenue  produced  by  a  man's 
own  lands/  To  the  civic  assemblies  belonged  the  right 
of  voting  organic  laws  and  deciding  questions  of  war  and 
peace.  "  From  the  same  assemblies  originated,  by  means 
of  free  election,  the  jury-courts,  to  which  the  decision 
belonged  in  all  criminal  cases  relating  to  the  public 
welfare,  and  to  which  at  the  same  time  an  appeal  lay  for 
every  citizen  from  the  sentence  of  the  judicial  officers."^ 
"  The  Areopagus  was  an  ofiicial  body  consisting  of  life- 
members,  which,  independent  of  the  fluctuation  of  daily 
opinion,  was  called  upon  to  oppose  premature  innovations 
with  the  authority  of  high  office,  to  watch  over  the 
sacred  usages  and  traditions  of  the  past,  and  to  exercise 
a  general  superintendence  over  the  commonwealth.  It 
was  composed  of  men  who  had  blamelessly  served  their 
country  in  the  highest  oflices,  and  thus  united  all  the 
eminent  intelligence  and  experience  existing  in  Athens."^ 
The  Council  of  the  Four  Hundred  was  elected  in  equal 
numbers  by  the  tribes.  The  executive  power  was  placed 
in  the  hands  of  Archoiis,  Vv'ho  attended  to  current  affairs. 
The  state  organised  a  system  of  public  instruction, 
watched  over  the  interests  of  morality  and  religion,  and 
passed  sumptuary  laws.* 

This  constitution  remained  unaltered  in  any  essential 
feature  through  the  most  various  political  changes.  It 
was  restored  after  the  brilliant  but  ephemeral  tyranny 
of  the  Thirty,  and  always  gave  a  democratic  character 
%o  the  political  constitution  of  Athens.  "Among  the  free 
Athenians  no  man  was  excluded  from  the  common  political 
life."  *<  The  offices  of  the  state  were  elective,  so  that  only 
such  men  conducted  the  executive  as  had  been  entrusted 
with  the  power  by  the  confidence  of  the  people.^"  Slavery, 
which  was  retained    in   a    mild  form,  set    the   citizen  at 

'   See  Curtius,  vol.  i.  P-  331.  '  Ibid.,  p.  336. 

'  Ibid.,  p.  335.  *  Ibid.,  et  seq. 

*  Ibid.,  p.  335. 


274    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

liberty  to  attend  to  public  duties.  Thus  everything  com- 
bined to  stimulate  capacity  to  its  highest  exercise  in 
every  department.  In  the  stirring  lite  of  the  Agora  the 
most  able  were  sure  to  come  to  the  front  under  the  pressure 
of  events  and  in  the  excitement  of  constant  public  dis- 
cussion. 

It  would  be  scarcely  possible  to  exaggerate  the  power 
exerted  by  speech  over  this  intelligent  and  sensitive 
people,  so  appreciative  of  the  beautiful,  and  so  responsive 
to  dialectic  skill.  Greece  became  the  land  of  the  Word, 
that  is  of  true  life-compelling  speech.  For  in  Athens, 
augument  paved  the  way  for  practical  decision.  We  do 
not  wonder  then  that  Thucydides  makes  speech  the  main- 
spring of  the  history  of  Athens ;  for  surely  this  noble 
faculty — the  utterance  of  mature  thought — is  the  distinctive 
glory  of  civilised  man. 

The  smaller  communities  did  not  lose  sight  of  the  larger 
State,  though  they  were  never  entirely  absorbed  in  it.  In 
addition  to  his  own  particular  city,  to  which  the  Greek 
always  devoted  himself  with  jealous  ardour,  he  recognised 
a  real  community — that  which  Herodotus  called  the  Hel- 
lenic element  eXkrivcKov,  founded  upon  oneness  of  race, 
manners  and  religion,  if  not  of  interests.  This  greater 
community  was  represented  in  very  early  times  by  the 
Amphictyonics,  or  religious  festivals — associations  formed 
among  the  various  Greek  States  which  recognised  the 
same  gods.  These  States  sent  their  delegates  to  Delphi 
or  Olympus,  to  take  part  in  the  religious  solemnities 
and  great  games,  which  gave  such  an  impetus  to  the 
development  of  the  valour,  vigour  and  physical  beauty 
of  the  nation.  These  physical  exercises  were  succeeded 
by  the  nobler  contests  in  poetic  skill.^ 

No  civil  constitution  determined  the  functions  of  this 
Amphictyonic  Council,  the  influence  of  which  was  primarily 
a  moral  one.  Delphi  became,  about  the  seventh  century 
before  Christ,  the  centre  and  heart  of  Greece.  We  shall 
only  see  the  full  significance  of  this  fact,  when  we  come 
presently  to  connect  it  with  the  religious  evolution,  by 
which  the  Delphic  oracle  was  accepted  as  emphatically  the 

'  Maury,  vol.  ii.  p.  12,  et  scq. 


FIRST  PERIOD.  275 


voice  of  the  god  of  Greece.  If  we  look  at  it  a  moment 
from  a  political  point  of  view,  we  shall  see  that  the  Greek 
race  found  in  this  aspect,  its  true  centre  at  Delphi,  From 
thence  proceeded  its  highest  patriotic  inspiration.  Foreign 
nations  resorted  thither  to  ratify  relations  with  Greece, 
and  her  colonies  derived  their  constitution  from  Delphi. 
It  was  indeed  easier  to  assure  the  authority  of  this 
ideal  representation  of  Greek  unity  abroad  than  at  home, 
for  there  it  escaped  the  rivalry  of  neighbours,  always  the 
deadliest  of  all. 

There  was  one  supremely  glorious  period  when  the 
unity  of  the  Hellenes  manifested  itself  with  unparalleled 
brilliancy  and  heroism.  This  was  in  the  decisive  conflict 
between  Greece  and  Persia.  Then  was  written  with  the 
sword,  the  grand  epic  of  historic  times  of  which  Herodotus 
was  the  inspired  Homer.  This  was  one  of  those  sudden 
episodes  in  which  an  entire  nation  rises  up  under  one 
common  impulse,  as  if  it  had  but  one  heart,  one  thought. 
We  will  not  say  that  then  it  rises  above  itself,  for  never 
is  man  more  true  to  his  nature  than  in  these  supreme 
moments.  All  petty  interests,  all  low  thoughts,  all  earth- 
born  vapours  are  dispersed  by  a  purer  breath  from  the 
heights  ;  and  we  recognise  in  such  crises,  the  inspiration 
which  can  express  itself  in  heroic  action  no  less  than  in 
sublime  poetry. 

It  is  in  these  heroic  days  that  Hellenism  rises  to  its 
truest  grandeur.  Greece,  menaced  with  mortal  peril,  finds 
in  her  patriotism  a  sort  of  sacred  transport  which  exalts 
all  her  faculties.  It  inspires  her  at  once  with  the  military 
genius  which  knows  how  to  combine  and  dispose  all  the 
forces  at  her  command,  and  with  the  heroic  intrepidity 
which  ignores  danger  and  difficulty.  Marathon  and  Salamis 
were  pre-eminently  the  victories  of  mind  and  soul  over 
brute  force,  for  the  vast  masses  of  the  Persians  swept  over 
the  land  rather  like  a  wild  tempest  let  loose,  than  like 
an  organised  army.  It  was  distinctly  the  human  genius 
of  the  Hellenes  which  won  these  decisive  battles,  and 
when  the  combatants  of  Salamis  thought,  as  Herodotus 
tells  us,  that  they  saw  a  female  figure  of  marvellous 
beauty  hovering  over  their  vessels,  they  were  not  mistaken. 
It   was  indeed  Greece,  in  her   noblest   idealisation,   who 


276    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

led  them  on  to  victory  and  freedom.  This  apparition 
was  the  glorious  impersonation  of  that  heroic  humanism, 
which  triumphed  in  the  domain  of  action  and  on  the  great 
battle-field  of  history,  only  because  it  had  already  triumphed 
in  the  religious  sphere.  It  will  be  for  us  now  to  trace 
its  development  in  this  higher  order. 

§  II. — First  Development  of  the  Greek  Conscience 
IN  the  Direction  of  Humanism. 

We  are  accustomed  to  look  at  the  religion  of  Greece 
only  in  the  calm  light  of  its  noontide  glory.  It  is  true 
nevertheless  that,  like  Hercules,  one  of  her  most  faithful 
types,  she  had  to  wrestle  in  her  cradle  with  serpents 
trying  to  strangle  her  in  their  deadly  coils,  and  faithfully 
representing  the  delusive  snares  of  naturism.  It  was  by 
a  long  and  slow  process  that  Greece  freed  herself  from 
their  deadly  embrace.  Nor  was  the  deliverance  ever 
quite  complete.  We  shall  see  that  the  Greek  conscience 
was  perpetually  tormented  by  a  persistent  paradox,  in 
spite  of  the  prominence  given  to  the  human  side  of  the 
divinity.  We  shall  not  separate  the  religious  evolution 
from  the  artistic,  because  nowhere  else  did  art  exercise 
so  great  an  influence  upon  religion,  as  was  natural  with  a 
race  so  aesthetic  as  the  Hellenes.  Here  we  must  be  on 
our  guard  against  a  false  impression  which  is  very  common, 
that  the  effect  of  poetry  and  art  upon  the  religious  develop- 
ment of  the  Greeks,  made  them  of  necessity  a  frivolous 
people.  This  is  degrading  art  to  a  mere  trick  of  the 
imagination.  The  beautiful,  the  true,  the  good,  have  all 
the  same  deep  roots.  They  have  no  doubt  distinct 
developments,  which  may  go  on  apart,  but  only  to  the 
great  detriment  of  all.  Greece  certainly  did  not  escape 
this  danger ;  but  in  her  deeper  consciousness,  she  never 
separated  the  beautiful  from  the  good,  ever  seeking 
harmony  in  life,  in  man  and  in  things.  The  most 
idealistic  of  her  philosophers  spoke  truly  in  her  name, 
when  he  said  that  the  beautiful  is  the  glory  of  the  true, 
and  identical  with  it.  To  beautify  the  gods  was  to  purify 
and  elevate  them  above  the  simple  life  of  nature. 

To  enshrine  them  in  the  most  perfect  human  form,  was 


FIRST  PERIOD.  277 


to  invest  them  also  with  the  intellect,  the  heart,  the 
conscience  of  man.  The  massive  brow  of  Olympian  Jove 
must  be  the  temple  of  majestic  thought.  The  noble  form 
was  but  the  expression  of  moral  dignity.  This  trans- 
formation of  the  gods  from  cosmic  forces  into  idealised 
human  beings,  went  on  even  more  rapidly  in  poetry  than 
in  the  plastic  arts.  We  shall  not  be  surprised  therefore 
to  find  the  artistic  development  largely  coinciding  with 
the  religious.  We  shall  see  presently  how  art  contributed 
to  develop  the  sense  of  imperfection  in  the  world  as  it  is, 
and  to  foster  that  aspiration  after  a  god  greater  than  any 
yet  known,  which  is  the  final  term  of  Hellenism  as  of  all 
the  religions  of  the  old  world.  Art  is,  in  fact,  not  simply 
a  magician  charming  us  by  his  incantations  and  making 
us  forget  the  dull  realities  of  the  present,  in  the  fugitive 
types  of  the  eternal  beauty  which  he  calls  up  before  us. 
Art  also  enhances  the  contrast  between  the  reality  which 
shuts  us  in  and  the  ideal  which  presents  itself  to  our 
aspiring  soul,  and  sets  this  contrast  before  us  with  an 
energy  of  pathos.  As  Plato  has  said  :  by  evoking  the 
eternal  idea  of  the  beautiful,  art  carries  us  back  to  the 
distant  times  when  we  celebrated  these  glorious  mysteries 
in  unsullied  light.^  Art  casts  no  veil  of  oblivion.  It 
remembers  and  hopes,  and  by  its  powerful  influence 
quickens  the  best  aspirations  of  the  soul  of  man. 

This  humanisation  at  once  moral  and  artistic,  of  the 
substance  of  the  old  religions,  was  not  however  free  from 
peril.  If  the  Greek  mythology  magnified  the  gods  in  one 
direction,  it  minimised  them  in  another.  If,  on  the  one  hand, 
it  raised  them  as  far  above  the  Eastern  Pantheon  as  man  is 
above  mere  nature ;  on  the  other  hand,  it  made  them 
sharers  in  all  the  passions  and  in  almost  all  the  follies  of 
humanity.  In  order  to  understand  this  paradox,  we  must 
glance  for  a  moment  at  the  origin  of  that  creation  of  the 
human  mind — so  strange  and  yet  so  spontaneous  and 
universal — the  myth.  It  stands  in  close  connection  with 
the  ideas  which  man  forms  of  things  in  the  obscure  period 
of  the  origin  of  religion.  It  is  an  utter  mistake  to  regard 
the  myth  as  Euhemerus  and  his  disciples  do,  as  simply 

'  Phaedrus,  §  249.    "  Dialogues  of  Plato."   Jowctt's  Trans.,  vol.  i  p.  §84, 


278    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY, 

a  legendary  distortion  of  real  facts  ;  or  with  Max  Milller 
as  the  result  of  mere  misconception  of  words,  metaphors 
for  instance  being  taken  literally;  or  again  with  Creuzer 
and  Guignault.  as  the  popular  form  in  which  profound 
sacerdotal  mysteries  are  taught.^  The  myth  is  nothing 
else  than  the  ;7r7{/expression  of  the  way  in  which  primitive 
man  represents  things  to  himself  under  the  influence  of 
naturism.  We  have  already  observed  that  he  sees  the 
Divine  in  all  the  manifestations  of  the  natural  life,  as  a 
spirit  informing  a  body,  like  the  spirit  of  which  he  is  con- 
scious in  his  own  being.  The  natural  processes  are  to  him 
the  development  of  the  divine  life.  Regarding  his  own 
constitution  as  the  normal  type  of  all  existence,  he  infers 
on  general  principles  of  anthropomorphism,  that  there  is 
in  heaven  and  earth,  in  sun  and  moon,  a  male  and  female 
element.  The  relations  of  cause  and  effect  he  regards  as 
sexual  relations.  The  great  gods  who  personify  the  cosmic 
forces,  destroy  life  after  having  bestowed  it.  Like  man, 
they  have  their  loves  and  hates.  So  long  as  naturism 
goes  no  further  than  a  vague  anthropomorphism,  this 
history  of  the  gods  only  reproduces  in  a  distant  and 
vague  manner,  the  history  of  men.  The  drama  of  the 
gods  is  enacted  in  a  region  which,  from  its  remoteness 
and  mystery,  commands  a  measure  of  respect  and 
adoration. 

But  this  is  no  longer  the  case  when  anthropomorphism 
has  become  a  real,  living  humanism.  No  doubt  when  the 
evolution  is  complete,  the  conception  of  the  Divine  gains  by 
it;  for  after  all,  the  soul  of  man  is  something  far  higher 
than  any  mere  natural  forces  ;  but  until  this  divine  element 
is  fully  brought  out,  and  the  lower  nature  is  shown  to  be 
under  its  feet,  humanism  in  its  earHer  stages  seems 
miserably  to  degrade  the  gods,  so  vivid  and  realistic  does 
it  make  that  which  was  at  first  only  a  symbol.  Thus  we 
have  graphic  representations  of  adulterous  and  murderous 
transports,  where  in  Oriental  pantheism  we  had  simply  the. 
succession    and   interaction    of   natural    cause  and    effect. 


•  There  is  an  admirable  i-csume  oi  the  various  explanalion  of  the  pro- 
duction cf  the  mjth  in  M.  Hildebrand's  Introduction  to  his  translation 
of  the  "  History  of  Literature,"  by  Otfiied  Miiller. 


FIRST  PERIOD.  279 


Even  at  this  stage  the  higher  elements  of  humanity  assert 
themselves  and  lift  up  their  protest  against  the  miserable 
degradation  of  the  idea  of  God.  Hence  the  strange  admix- 
ture of  the  base  and  the  beautiful  in  the  idea  of  the  Divine, 
which  characterises  the  whole  period  till  humanism, 
growing  dissatisfied  with  gods  fashioned  after  the  likeness 
of  man,  lifts  them  for  a  time  to  the  lofty  summit  where  the 
human  is  lost  in  the  Divine,  or  at  least  becomes  one  with 
it  in  a  strong  and  holy  alliance. 

The  Homeric  epic  brings  before  us  in  strong  relief  all 
the  contradictions  of  humanism  in  its  first  period,  in 
which  it  at  once  debases  and  exalts  the  divine  idea.  We 
shall  see  how  largely  in  the  succeeding  period,  the  Greek 
freed  himself  from  this  inconsistency.  And  yet  the  old 
naturism  was  never  altogether  shaken  off,  and  it  per- 
petuated the  element  of  fatalism  out  of  which  it  sprang, 
and  which  excluded  the  idea  of  a  supreme  Deity,  truly 
and  absolutely  lord  of  the  universe.  For  one  of  two 
views  must  be  accepted ;  either  the  god  had  not  the 
power  to  cast  out  the  element  of  evil  from  nature ;  in 
which  case  he  was  not  supreme ;  or  having  the  power, 
he  had  not  the  will,  in  which  case  he  was  not  supremely 
good.  Hence  the  grave  conflict  in  the  religious  concep- 
tions of  the  old  world,  even  when  these  had  reached 
their  highest  point,  a  conflict  carried  on  not  only  in  the 
sphere  of  the  intellect  but  of  the  conscience,  and  becoming 
the  source  at  once  of  its  deepest  anguish  and  highest 
aspiration. 

In  contemplating  the  boundless  wealth  of  Greek  mytho- 
logy, we  must  not  lose  sight  of  the  many  secondary  causes 
which  helped  to  produce  its  galaxy  of  beauty.  The  chang- 
ing aspects  of  nature  in  this  land  which  includes  so  many 
zones  within  a  limited  sphere ;  the  frequent  relations  of 
the  Greeks  with  other  nations  by  the  highway  of  the  sea ; 
the  various  incidents  of  the  national  life,  the  chief  of 
which  were  emigration  and  colonisation  ;  all  these  became 
so  many  sources  of  various  myths,  as  they  presented 
themselves  to  the  fertile  imagination  of  the  Greek. 

When  Greece  came  to  possess  religious  centres  like 
Delphi  and  Olympus,  the  countless  creations  of  her 
imagination    naturally    ranged    themselves    in    a   certain 


28o    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 


hierarchical  order.^  Nevertheless  her  fruitful  genius  was 
still  free  to  beautify  them  and  to  add  to  their  number,  for 
she  had  no  priestly  caste  to  be  the  jealous  guardian  of  tradi- 
tion. The  singers  who  celebrated  the  gods  did  not  belong 
to  the  priesthood,  which  was  however  open  to  all  and 
was  almost  a  lay  institution.  It  was  no  part  of  the  priests' 
duty  to  initiate  the  people  into  the  use  of  sacred  formulas 
supposed  to  possess  magic  virtue,  like  the  Egyptian 
Books  of  the  Dead,  or  the  sacred  hymns  of  the  Vedas. 
They  had  no  oracular  message  to  deliver.  When  they 
magnified  the  national  gods  in  song,  they  yielded  to  a  free 
inspiration.  When  at  the  close  of  the  feast,  they  celebrated 
the  amours  and  combats  of  Olympus,  no  one  asked  if 
they  had  added  some  grace  of  their  own  invention  to  the 
rich  store  of  ancient  myths.^  Under  the  endless  variety 
of  the  Greek  myths,  it  is  not  difficult  to  discern  a  common 
origin.  The  first  nucleus  of  the  myth  is  always  the 
naturism  of  the  primitive  Aryans,  somewhat  enriched 
by  the  addition  of  legends  brought  from  Phoenicia.  But 
as  soon  as  it  reaches  the  shores  of  Greece,  we  note  the 
tendency  to  humanise  the  Divine,  to  impress  on  it  a 
personal  living  character,  to  kindle  it  with  the  glow  of 
human  passions,  and  to  impart  to  it  the  noble  attribute 
of  conscience.  A  hasty  glance  at  the  greatg  ods  of  the 
Homeric  epos  will  make  this  abundantly  evident. 

There  is  not  one  of  them,  either  in  his  attributes  or  the 
legend  attached  to  him,  who  does  not  retain  some  char- 
acteristic traits  of  his  naturalistic  origin.  The.  very  name 
{Zeiis-Dyans,  the  Latin  Jupiter)  suggests  the  idea  of  the 
luminous  heaven.  He  dwells  in  the  ether,  and  like  Zeus 
Lycaios,  he  is  positively  the  god  of  light.^  It  was  con- 
stantly said  that  he  sent  the  rain,  and  as  he  thus  made  the 
earth  fruitful,  he  became  the  hero  of  countless  amours 
with  mortal  women,  daughters  of  earth.  The  local  legends 
relating  the  amours  of  Zeus,  are  often  only  the  description, 
under  various  poetic  forms,  of  natural  phenomena.  The 
famous  sacred  oak  of  Dodona,  from  out  the  leafy  branches 

'  Ludwig  Preller,  "  Griechische  Mythologie,"  vol.  i.  Introd. 

*  Dunker,  "  Geschichte  des  Altertliums,"  vol.  iii. 

*  Zeus  Lycaios  first  worshipped  on  mount  Lj'caeon,  a  name  supposed  to 
be  derived  from  \vK't]  {lux,  light).     Decharme,  p.  72. 


FIRST  PERIOD.  281 


of  which  came  the  voice  of  the  god,  represented  the  dark 
clouds.  Here  (Juno),  from  the  Sanscrit  Svar,  is  the  great 
goddess  of  heaven.  Volatile  as  the  air,  she  passes  from 
transports  of  love  to  tumults  of  hate.  Athene  (Minerva), 
who  becomes  in  the  end  the  purest  impersonation  ot 
thought,  is  at  first  nothing  but  the  Vedic  Ushas}  Ahana, 
the  burning  one,  as  the  Vedic  poets  called  the  dawn.  She 
may  also  be  identified  with  the  equally  brilliant  lightning, 
which  comes  forth  from  the  skies  like  the  daughter  of 
Zeus  from  the  brain  of  her  father.^  There  can  be  no 
doubt  as  to  her  naturalistic  origin.  Apollo,  as  is  indicated 
by  his  name  of  Phoebus,  ^w?,  light,  is  evidently  the  most 
brilliant  manifestation  of  the  great  god  of  heaven.  He  is 
the  son  of  Zeus  and  of  Leto,  who  represents  the  night. 
He  is  said  to  have  been  born  under  a  palm-tree,  the  Greek 
name  of  which  signifies  the  dawn.^  When,  in  the  very 
moment  of  his  birth,  the  young  god  speeds  the  arrows  from 
his  bow,  he  is  a  striking  symbol  of  the  rising  sun,  as  it  darts 
its  first  rays.  His  sister  Artemis,  with  her  golden  spindle 
and  her  golden  reins,  is  a  lunar  goddess.  She  is  the  most 
beautiful  and  chaste  of  virgins,  represented  by  the  evening 
star,  whose  gentle  light  speaks  only  of  purity.  Hermes 
is  the  son  of  Zeus  and  Maia.  This  goddess  personifies  dark 
night,  as  is  indicated  by  the  cave  in  whose  gloomy  depths 
she  brought  forth  her  son.  Hermes  represents  twihght  ; 
hence  in  a  myth  which  is  purely  Vedic,  he  appears  steal- 
ing the  cows  of  Apollo  which  symbolise  the  sun. 

After  the  gods  of  the  heavens  come  those  of  the  earth, 
and  of  fire  and  water.  In  Hephaestus  (Vulcan)  we  trace 
the  Agni  of  the  Vedas.*  His  name  is  sometimes  used 
simply  as  a  synonym  for  fire  itself.  In  the  theogony 
of  Hesiod,  he  is  born  of  Here  alone,  in  an  access  of 
rage,  and  thus  becomes  the  image  of  a  stormy  sky.  His 
staggering  gait  represents  the  irregular  movement  of 
the  lightning.^  Hestia  (Vesta)''  carries  our  thoughts  at 
once  to  the  fire  on  the  hearth,  which  all  the  Aryans 
regarded  as  divine,  making  no  distinction  between  it 
and  the  sacrificial  fire.      Hestia  presided   at  Delphi,  the 

'  Decharme,  p.  72.  *  Decharme,  p.  145. 

*  Ibid.,  p.  129.  *  Ibid.,  pp.  162,  163. 

*  ^oivi^  means  of  a  red  colour.  '  Ibid.,  p.  1 70. 


282     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

most  sacred  altar  in  Greece.  There  she  apparently 
represented  the  centre  of  the  earth.  By  degrees  she 
became  confounded  with'  the  earth,  and  consequently 
with  Demeter  and  Cybele.  Ares  or  Mars  is  obviously 
the  Greek  Indra,  the  god  of  the  storm,  the  leader  of 
the  Maruts,  the  breakers,  with  whom  his  very  name  sug- 
gests a  probable  analogy.^  He  was  evidently  intended 
to  become  the  great  warrior-god  upon  earth.  His  inter- 
vention in  fight  is  always  accompanied  with  terrific  noise. 
His  cry,  when  wounded,  is  a  fearful  bellowing,  and  as 
soon  as  he  returns  to  the  heavens,  he  conceals  himself 
in  a  thick  cloud.  If  he  sleeps  in  the  arms  of  Aphro- 
dite, it  is  because  storms  sometimes  sleep  in  the  fair 
days  of  the  spring.  Aphrodite  herself,  who  has  evidently 
come  from  Phoenicia  by  way  of  Cyprus,  is  at  first  the 
voluptuous  image  of  the  creative  power  of  life,  herself 
born  of  the  foam  of  the  ocean,  as  of  the  great  vital  fluid 
left  there  by  old  Saturn  after  his  mutilation.  She  can 
be  nothing  else  than  an  emblem  of  the  fruitfulness  of 
nature. 

The  most  cursory  glance  at  the  Greek  mythology  will 
show  us  that  Poseidon  represents  the  humid  element, 
Pluto  the  dark  regions  underground,  Demeter  the  earth, 
our  common  mother,  Proserpine  the  grain  of  wheat,  the 
seed  which  dies  to  live  again.  It  would  be  easy  to 
find  representations  of  every  aspect  of  nature,  grave  and 
gay,  in  the  crowd  of  secondary  deities  who  people  the 
lower  heights  of  Olympus.'^ 

The  transformation  of  these  gods  who  are  so  closely 
identified  with  natural  phenomena,  goes  on,  so  to  speak, 
before  our  eyes  in  the  so-called  Homeric  hymns,  till  it 
reaches  its  brilliant  consummation  in  the  two  great  epics  of 
the  siege  of  Troy.  We  can  still  indeed  discern  the  cosmic 
force  through  the  human  garb  of  the  gods.  Their  weak- 
nesses, their  enticements,  their  adventures,  even  their 
principal  attributes,  correspond  to  the  natural  phenomena 

'  Ares,  according  to  Max  Miiller,  comes  from  the  Sanscrit  Mar,  from 
whence  Mnr«/.     Decharme,  p.  176. 

-  On  this  naturalistic  aspect  of  the  Olj'mpians,  see  the  chapters  on  the 
subject  in  Preller's  "Griechische  Mythologie,"  and  the  part  referring  to 
them  in  M.  Decharme's  book  on  the  same  subject. 


FIRST  PERIOD.  283 


which  they  at  first  represented,  but  at  the  same  time, 
the  Hne  of  demarcation  is  drawn  more  and  more  clearly. 
In  the  first  place,  the  Homeric  god  has  his  own  proper 
physiognomy  and  character  ;  he  acts  like  a  living,  moral 
agent.  Nor  does  he  only  act ;  he  speaks  and  deliberates  ; 
pursues  a  train  of  thought ;  states  his  impressions,  makes 
known  his  will.  There  is  nothing  like  this  in  the  old  Aryan 
mythology,  except  in  the  later  incarnations  of  Rama,  Qiva 
and  Vishnu,  illusory  disguises  of  a  god  who  is  always 
one  and  the  same,  and  who  only  assumes  a  human 
personality  as  a  momentary  mask.  Jupiter,  Juno,  Minerva, 
Mars,  are  ardent  champions,  either  of  the  Trojans  or  the 
Greeks.  They  take  part  in  the  conflict  going  on,  and 
discuss  their  preferences  or  dislikes  on  the  heights  of 
Olympus,  like  the  Greeks  and  Trojans  themselves  in 
their  councils  of  war.  These  heights  of  Olympus  are 
indeed  very  near  the  earth.  The  immortals  seem  to 
have  the  advantage  in  their  greater  strength  and  ex- 
emption from  death,  but  in  very  truth  they  are  the 
inferiors  of  man.  It  is  clear  that  the  human  hero  is  the 
type  upon  which  the  conception  of  the  god  is  modelled. 
The  earthly  king  is  not  more  passionate  in  his  hate  than 
these  heavenly  monarchs.  He  speaks  with  as  much  elo- 
quence and  with  a  more  marked  effort  to  persuade, 
because  the  balance  of  forces  is  less  evenly  held  among 
men  than  among  the  Olympians.  His  courage  inspires 
greater  interest,  for  his  risks  are  greater.  How  noble 
does  he  appear  in  the  heat  of  battle,  exposing  his  breast 
to  the  mortal  darts,  and  overthrowing  all  that  stands  in 
his  way ;  presenting  to  the  foe  as  grand  a  front  as  the 
mountain  which  rises  above  the  valleys.  In  truth  it  is 
his  own  greatness  which  the  Greek  has  projected  upon  his 
gods.  If  they  are  pitiful,  if  they  bend  their  ear  to  the 
suppliant,  they  have  learnt  the  lesson  from  Achilles, 
returning  to  old  Priam  the  body  of  Hector  watered  with 
his  tears.  The  virtue  of  the  Homeric  hero  is  indeed 
darkened  by  many  shadows.  It  is  the  human  soul  in  its 
simple,  natural  development,  without  any  attempt  at  its 
radical  amendment.  His  valour  never  fails ;  he  is  good 
to  the  unfortunate  ;  hospitality  is  a  sacred  duty  in  his 
eyes ;  but  he  exterminates  his  enemies  without   scruple. 


284    ^HE  ANCIEN2  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

His  heart  responds  to  all  the  tender  claims  of  family 
affection.  When  in  foreign  lands,  he  pictures  to  himself 
with  touching  pathos,  the  smoke  going  up  from  the 
family  roof-tree.  As  a  son  he  is  dutiful ;  as  a  brother, 
full  of  tenderness.  He  honours  his  wife,  but  does  not 
deem  it  a  wrong  done  to  her  to  receive  into  intimacy 
many  a  fair  female  captive.  Hence  he  does  not  withdraw 
his  homage  from  gods  as  inconstant  as  himself,  because  he 
judges  them  by  his  own  standard.  To  use  an  expression 
very  familiar  in  the  Iliad,  to  act  as  a  man  is  to  show  one- 
self the  son  of  a  god.  When  Ulysses  draws  himself  up  to 
his  majestic  height,  and  raises  ahead  "from  which  the 
hair  descends  in  wavy  curls  like  hyacinthine  flowers," 
he  is  said  to  resemble  the  immortal  gods.-'  Thus  the 
naturalistic  element  is  lost  in  the  human.  Nature  retires 
into  the  background. 

One  of  the  first  evidences  of  this  victory  of  mind  over 
the  unconscious  forces  of  matter,  is  that  harmonious  pro- 
portion between  all  the  parts  of  the  Homeric  epos  which 
makes  it  a  symmetrical  work,  expressing  one  main  thought 
and  marked  out  on  a  definite  plan.  In  this  it  contrasts 
strikingly  with  the  disconnected,  bewildering  mass  of 
Indian  poetry,  which  seems  to  lose  its  way  amid  the 
multiplicity  of  objects,  and  to  be  baffled  by  the  wild 
luxuriance  of  nature.  In  the  Homeric  poem  everything 
bears  the  impress  of  thought,  the  seal  of  man's  reason, 
without  excluding  the  exquisite  flowers  of  imagination. 
Upon  the  canvas  all  palpitating  with  living  souls,  falls  a 
calm  light  which  brings  into  relief  the  harmonious  lines 
of  the  setting. 

The  Greek  poet  by  no  means  shghts  natural  objects. 
He  paints  his  landscape  as  faithfully  as  his  human  figures. 
Only  he  is  careful  not  to  let  his  hero  be  lost  in  the  vast- 
ness  of  his  environment.  He  borrows  from  nature  the 
colours  in  which  to  represent  the  creation  of  his  thought. 
The  imagery  used  in  the  Homeric  epics  is  like  a  clear 
mirror  intended  to  reflect  the  thoughts,  the  feelings  and 
doings  of  the  man.  All  is  made  subservient  to  this  end, 
from  the  fierce  lion  scattering  terror  v^'ith  his  roar,  to  the 

'  It  is  said  of  Ul3'sses  a.d3.vii.T0i(TLv  cixolos,  Odyssey  xxiii.  v.  163. 


FIRS2  PERIOL  285 


soft  silvery  foliage  of  the  olive,  bending  in  the  evening 
breeze,  till  the  cruel  storm  tears  it  up  by  the  roots  and 
lays  it  low.  The  forest  stripped  of  its  leaves  in  autumn 
by  the  icy  north  wind,  and  waiting  for  the  spring  to  clothe 
it  afresh,  represents  the  successive  generations  of  men. 
This  humanisation  of  figures  borrowed  from  nature,  is 
not  one  of  the  least  characteristic  traits  of  this  poetry, 
which  is  always  fresh  and  vivid  without  exaggeration. 

It  must  be  recognised,  however,  that  above  the  simply 
human  god,  the  ideal  hero,  the  religious  soul  of  the 
Greek,  even  at  this  period,  had  visions  of  a  yet  higher 
ideal,  though  he  did  not  try  to  bring  it  into  harmony  with 
his  current  conceptions.  Homer  acknowledges  a  Zeus 
greater  than  the  vindictive  and  capricious  husband  of 
Juno,  a  supreme  God,  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,  the  god 
whose  power  there  is  no  resisting.^  "  All  Olympus 
trembles  at  his  nod."  ^  Speaking  to  the  gods  and  goddesses 
assembled  in  council  on  the  highest  peaks  of  many- 
ridged  Olympus,  he  says  : 

"  Ye  shall  know 
In  strength  how  greatly  I  surpass  you  all 
Make  trial  ii"  ye  will,  that  all  may  know."  ^ 

He  is  addressed  as  "  Father  Zeus,  the  ruler  over  god.s 
and  men,"^  the  absolute  dispenser  of  good  and  ill.^  To 
him  repair  the  poor  and  the  distressed.  His  heart  is 
open  to  pity. 

"  Prayers  are  the  daughters  of  immortal  Jove,  • 
and  though 

"  Halt  and  wrinkled  and  of  feeble  sight. 
They  greatly  aid  and  hear  man  when  he  prays."' 

It  is  in  the  second  of  the  Homeric  poems — the  pure 
and  pathetic  Odyssey — that  the  notion  of  the  deity  be- 
comes truly  exalted,  and  with  it  the  sense  of  man's  duty. 
Ulysses  is  the  type  of  a  heroism  very  different  from  that 

•  Iliad,  viii.  30;  xix.  284,  *  Odyssey,  xx.    §  15, 

•  Ibid.,  i.  624.  *  Iliad,  viii.  34 — 38. 

•  Ibid,,  viii.  19—21.  «  Ibid.,  ix.  587. 

'  Ibid.,  ix.  588,  594. 


286     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

of  Achilles.  Valour  is,  in  him,  combined  with  power  of 
thought,  eloquent  utterance  with  self-restraint,  in  a  word, 
with  all  the  noblest  faculties  of  man.  He  is  the  thinking 
reed  whom  Neptune  himself,  with  all  his  hurricanes, 
cannot  break.  He  lifts  his  head  again  after  every  storm, 
and  his  supreme  conflict  ^vaged  with  triumphant  iniquity 
at  Ithaca,  for  the  recovery  of  his  wife,  is  a  victory  of 
good  over  evil.  His  tutelary  goddess  is  herself  human 
in  a  higher  sense  than  the  Olympians  of  the  Iliad.  She 
rises  with  the  hero  himself  In  the  Minerva  of  the 
Odyssey  we  have  already  a  foreshadowing  of  the  divine 
Virgin  of  Athens,  who  personifies  not  only  the  valour 
which  guards  the  fatherland,  but  thought,  genius,  virtue, 
all  that  exalts  and  vitalises  it. 

Yet  the  fact  remains  that  the  human  gods  of  the  Homeric 
epos  are  beset  with  insoluble  moral  contradictions.  Thus 
they  are  under  the  sway  of  a  power  stronger  than  them- 
selves, of  that  mysterious  destiny  which  is  a  survival  of 
the  old  naturism,  as  though  to  show  that  it  is  never 
wholly  subdued  without  the  acceptance  of  the  theistic 
conception  of  the  universe.  All  the  gods,  including 
Jupiter  himself,  bow  before  the  inexorable  law  of  fate. 
"The  gods  themselves,"  says  Homer,  "cannot  exempt 
their  beloved  hero  from  the  death  common  to  all,  when 
once  Moira  (destiny)  has  laid  hold  of  him  to  plunge  him 
into  the  deep  sleep  of  the  tomb."  ^ 

In  this  contradiction  lies  the  great  interest  of  the 
cosmogony  of  the  Hesiod.  It  is  a  mistake  to  look  upon 
this  as  a  poetic  attempt  to  explain  the  origin  of  things. 
The  myths  of  the  cosmogony  are  unquestionably  con- 
nected with  traditions  and  legends  which  embody,  in 
mythic  forms,  the  actual  recollections  of  the  great  geologic 
crisis.^  The  dominant  feature  in  this  broad  and  sombre 
picture  of  the  formation  of  the  world,  is  that  this  forma- 
tion is  the  result  of  terrible  struggles  among  the  great 
forces  of  nature,  these  being  personified  in  gigantic  beings 
at  once  blind  and  cruel,  and  now  as  eager  to  destroy  as 
they  once  were  to  create.  The  two  earliest  of  these 
cosmic  gods  are  still  abstractions,    for  under  the  names 

*  Jules  Girard,  p.  54.     Moira  is  the  destiny  of  Jupiter. 
'  Dechanne,  c.  iv. 


FIRS2  PERIOD.  287 


of  Chaos  and  Gaia,  they  symbolise  unlimited  space  and 
terrestrial  matter  in  process  of  formation.  Eros  who 
sets  it  in  motion  is  simply  the  force  of  attraction.  The 
drama  of  the  natural  life  does  not  begin  till  later,  when 
Uranus  appears  after  the  simply  cosmic  deities  such  as 
Erebus  and  night,  ^ther  and  day,  whose  only  function 
has  been  to  part  the  light  from  the  darkness.  Uranus 
produces  a  race  of  gods  by  his  union  with  Gaia  or  the 
earth.  He  is  the  first  murderer  among  these  great 
mysterious  gods  who  preceded  the  definite  organisation 
of  the  world.  He  tries  to  take  from  his  son  Chronos 
(Saturn)  the  life  he  has  given  him.  The  Cyclops,  who  are 
also  his  offspring,  are  the  gods  of  storms,  and  represent 
the  power  of  evil  let  loose  in  the  world.  Chronos,  warned 
by  his  mother  of  the  murderous  designs  of  Uranus, 
surprises  him  in  his  sleep,  mutilates  him,  and  throws  into 
the  sea  the  spoils  of  his  manhood,  which  floating  there  in 
the  state  of  foam,  give  birth  to  the  beautiful  Aphrodite. 

So  ends  the  first  act  of  the  drama.  The  divine  fruit- 
fulness  does  not  cease.  It  goes  on  producing  at  once  evil 
and  good,  for  dark  night,  the  first-born  daughter  of  Chaos 
and  Erebus,  gives  birth  to  hideous  old  age,  to  burning 
discord,  the  mother  of  all  dolor  and  travail,  to  the  Fates, 
Nemesis,  lust  and  death. 

The  Oath  which  is  to  counteract  the  effects  of  evil,  acts 
as  a  beneficent  power  over  this  fatal  posterity  of  Erebus 
and  night.  With  the  Oath  comes  in  the  idea  of  the  moral 
law. 

Chronos,  jealous  of  Zeus,  the  most  powerful  and  valiant 
of  his  sons,  to  whom  he  feels  he  will  have  to  give  place, 
seeks  again  to  kill  him,  but  the  young  god  is  saved  by  his 
mother,  and  at  the  time  appointed,  enters  on  the  decisive 
conflict  with  the  blind  forces  of  nature,  personified  in  the 
Cyclops  and  Titans. 

This  conflict  is  many  times  renewed,  and  is  not  decided 
till  Zeus,  after  having  shut  up  his  former  enemies  in  the 
bowels  of  the  earth,  destroys  the  giant  Typhon,  their  last 
survivor.  Hesiod  gives  a  magnificent  description  of  the 
fatal  conflict. 

"  The  earth  wide  blazes  with  the  fires  of  Jove, 
Nor  t^he  flash  spares  the  verdure  of  the  grove, 


288    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY, 

Fierce  glows  the  air,  the  boiling  ocean  roars, 

And  the  seas  wash  with  burning  waves  their  shores; 

The  dazzling  vapours  round  the  Titans  glare, 

A  light  too  powerful  for  their  eyes  to  bear. 

One  conflagration  seems  to  seize  them  all, 

And  threatens  Chaos  with  the  general  fall. 

From  what  their  eyes  behold,  and  what  they  hear, 

The  universal  wreck  of  worlds  is  near. 

Should  the  large  vault  of  stars,  the  heavens,  descend 

And  with  the  earth  in  loud  confusion  blend, 

Like  this  would  seem  the  great  tumultuous  jar: 

The  gods  engag'd,  such  the  big  voice  of  war ! 

And  now  the  battling  winds  their  havoc  make, 

Thick  whirls  the  dust,  earth  thy  foundations  shake, 

The  arms  of  Jove  thick  and  terrific  fly 

And  blaze  and  bellow  through  the  trembling  sky, 

Winds,  thunder,  lightning  thro"  both  armies  drove 

Their  course  impetuous,  from  the  hand  of  Jove. 

Loud  and  stupendous  is  the  raging  fight ; 

And  now  each  warrior  god  exerts  his  might. ' 

This  sombre  and  impressive  picture  evidently  repre- 
sents the  first  volcanic  convulsions  of  the  earth,  and  shows 
us  how  terrible  was  the  impression  left  by  them  on  the 
mirds  of  the  survivors.  It  is  truly  Greek  and  altogether 
in  harm.ony  with  humanism,  that  the  victory  is  ascribed 
to  a  divine  hero,  a  sort  of  celestial  Achilles,  who  displays 
all  his  valour.  This  is  not  like  Indra's  s3'mbolic  conflict, 
which  is  renewed  day  by  day,  arid  is  only  a  poetic  image 
representing  the  persistent  contrasts  existing  in  nature. 
Jupiter's  combats  are  assigned  to  a  definite  date  in  the  past, 
and  have  a  definite  result.  They  are  history  carried  into 
the  very  heart  of  nature.  In  order  to  mark  how  dis- 
tinctly the  victory  of  Zeus  inaugurates  a  new  era  in  which 
order  and  law  will  certainly  prevail,  the  Theogony  in  a 
sirgular  and  daring  myth  makes  him  devour  Metis  or 
wisdom,  the  mother  of  Minerva. 

"  He  made  the  goddess  in  himself  reside, 
To  be  in  every  act  the  eternal  guide."  ^ 

Themis,  the  impersonation  of  the  governing  power  of 
law,  becomes  his  second  wife.  The  daughters  born  of  this 
alliance,  which  represents  universal  law,  are  the  Hours. 

*  Hesiod,  Theogony,  looo— 102,  Cook's  Transl.        ^  Ibid.    1237,  8. 


FIRST  PERIOD.  289 


"  The  Hours  to  Jove  did  lovely  Thensis  bear, 
Eunomie,  Dice  and  Irene  fair. 
O'er  human  labours  they  the  power  possess, 
With  seasons  kind,  the  I'ruits  of  earth  to  bless." ' 

The  three  Fates  are  fruits  of  the  same  union.  These 
determine  the  destinies  of  man. 

The  nine  Muses  represent  beauty  and  harmony.  Lastly, 
Minerva,  sprung  full  armed  from  the  brain  of  Jupiter, 
impersonates  at  once  valour  and  poetry,  while  Nemesis 
personifies  the  moral  government  of  the  world. 

This  victory  of  the  human  god  is  not  complete,  however, 
because  the  powers  of  evil  are  still  at  work.  Their  very 
existence  remains  a  sad  and  inexplicable  problem,  for 
after  all,  as  we  have  seen,  they  were  produced  directly 
by  the  gods  themselves.  Evil,  pain  and  death  have 
been  from  the  beginning,  and  are  traceable  to  the  first 
Cause  of  all  things,  which  is  itself  subject  to  the  fatal  law 
of  necessity.  The  primordial  god  might  say  with  Osiris  : 
"  Evil  and  Not-being  are  in  me."  Hence  Zeus  himself  is 
never  sure  of  his  triumph,  and  is  always  in  fear  of  rivals 
rising  up  to  dispute  his  power.  This  is  the  explanation 
of  the  strange  myth  of  Prometheus,  at  least  in  its  earlier 
form,  as  it  appears  in  the  Theogony.  It  puts  the  destiny 
of  man  in  an  altogether  mournful  light.  Prometheus, 
according  to  Hesiod,  is  a  beneficent  rather  than  a  per- 
verse Titan.  He  not  only  tries  to  steal  the  celestial  fire 
that  he  may  give  it  to  man,  and  with  it  impart  to  him  the 
secret  of  all  progress  in  the  natural  life;  but  he  is  anxious 
also  to  communicate  to  him  the  more  subtle  and  divine 
flame  of  intellect.  Yet  he  deserves  the  wrath  of  Zeus, 
when,  fearing  the  jealousy  of  the  god,  he  deals  craftily  with 
him.  Hence  the  punishment  in  which  the  whole  miserable 
race  of  mankind  is  involved.  Strange  to  say,  this  punish- 
ment comes  through  the  smiling  enchantress  who  is  so 
deeply  to  wound  his  spirit — Pandora,  the  gracious  image 
of  the  eternal  feminine  element — who  brings  to  him 

"  A  casket  full  of  diseases  and  corroding  cares, 
And-Hope  alone  remains  entire  within." - 


Heficd,  "Thcogonv,"  1239—40. 
K'^.ioc',  "Woiksar.d  Da3S,"95 — 96. 


19 


290    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

Hesiod  draws  a  gloomy  picture  of  the  destiny  oi 
mortals. 

"And  now  unnumber'd  woes  o'er  mortals  reign. 
Alike  infected  is  the  land  and  main. 
O'er  human  race  distempers  silent  stray 
And  multiply  their  strength  by  night  and  day." ' 

Such  is  the  fate  of  man  in  this  "  rough  iron  age,"  which 
has  succeeded  to  the  glorious  felicities  of  the  sons  of 
Saturn  during  the  age  of  gold.  The  impiety  of  men  has 
put  an  end  to  this  blissful  era,  and  in  the  two  succeeding 
periods,  the  age  of  silver,  and  the  age  of  brass,  good  is 
much  alloyed  with  manifold  ills.  But  a  yet  sterner  doom 
awaits  them.     The  poet  exclaims  : — 

"  Oh  !  would  I  had  my  hours  of  life  began 
Before  this  fifth,  this  sinful  race  of  man ; 
Or  had  I  not  been  call'd  to  breathe  the  day, 
Till  the  rough  iron  age  had  passed  away ! 
For  now,  the  times  are  such,  the  gods  ordain 
That  every  moment  shall  be  winged  with  pain. 
Condemned  to  sorrows  and  to  toil  we  live ; 

Rest  to  our  labour  death  alone  can  give.^ 

♦  *  ♦  # 

"  Oh,  how  degenerate  is  the  human  state ; 
Strict  honesty  and  naked  truth  shall  fail, 
The  perjured  villain,  in  his  arts  prevail. 
Hoarse  envy  shall,  unseen,  exert  her  voice, 
Attend  the  wretched  and  in  ill  rejoice. 
Justice  and  modesty  at  length  do  fly. 
Robed  their  fair  limbs  in  white,  and  gain  the  sky. 
From  the  wide  earth  the}'  reach  the  blessed  abodes. 
And  join  the  great  assembly  of  the  gods. 
While  wretched  men,  abandoned  to  their  grief. 
Sink  in  their  sorrows,  hopeless  of  relief."' 

We  should  form  a  very  inadequate  idea  of  Greece  if 
we  were  to  ignore  this  dark  and  tragic  aspect  of  her 
religion,  which  is  often  passed  by,  lost  as  it  were  in  the 
effulgence  of  her  heroic  and  aesthetic  life.  This  hidden 
sorrow,  intensified  by  reflection,  was  all  the  more  poignant 
because  it  arose  out  of  the  very  nature  of  things,  or  to 
speak  more  exactly,  out  of  the  very  nature  of  her  gods, 
Jupiter  included.  Did  he  not  as  a  god  betray  jealousy 
of  man  and  a  desire  to  keep  him  in  humiliating  bondage  ? 

»  Hesiod,  "Works  and  Days,"  100—103.    ^  jbid.,  173—177,  187—199. 


FIRST  PERIOD.  291 


Other  sentiments,  as  we  know,  reacted  against  this  fatalism 
of  evil,  and  the  idea  of  a  just  and  benevolent  god  often 
rent  the  thick  veil  of  lingering  naturism.  We  shall  see 
that  a  hope  of  reconciliation  arises  in  the  end  for  the 
Titan-benefactor  of  mankind.  In  a  new  phase  of  the 
religious  evolution,  his  unhappy  fate  is  attributed  to  the 
thought  of  pride  and  rebelhon,  which  blended  with  the 
benefits  he  sought  to  heap  upon  mankind,  and  to  his 
impious  attempt  to  deceive  Jupiter  by  offering  him  a  mock 
sacrifice,  in  which  he  was  cheated  of  the  best  part  of  the 
victims.  In  the  pathetic  story  of  the  destiny  of  man,  as 
given  by  Hesiod,  we  have  already  an  anticipation  of  the 
true  solution  of  the  enigma  of  evil.  More  than  once  men 
are  charged  with  being  the  authors  of  their  own  mis- 
fortunes. 

"  Is  there  a  man  whom  incorrupt  we  call, 
_  Who  sits  alike  unprejudiced  to  all, 

By  him  the  city  nourishes  in  peace 
His  borders  lengthen  and  his  sons  increase. 
From  him  all-seeing  Jove  will  drive  afar 
All  civil  discord  and  the  rage  of  war. 
No  days  of  famine  to  the  righteous  fall, 
But  all  is  plenty,  and  delightful  all. 

*  *  #  • 

Not  thus  the  wicked  who  in  ill  delight. 
Whose  daily  acts  pervert  the  rules  of  right, 
To  these  the  wise  disposer  Jove  ordains 

Repeated  losses  and  a  world  of  pains ; 

#  *  *  • 

Exactly  mark,  ye  rulers  of  mankind. 

The  ways  of  truth  nor  be  to  justice  blind  ; 

Consider  all  ye  do,  and  all  ye  say, 

The  holy  demons  to  their  god  convey 

Aerial  spirits  by  great  Jove  designed 

To  be  on  earth,  the  guardians  of  mankind, 

Invisible  to  mortal  eyes  they  go 

And  mark  our  actions  good  or  bad  below, 

Th'  immortal  spies  with  watchful  care  preside, 

And  thrice  ten  thousand  round  their  charges  glide. 

Justice,  unspotted  maid,  derived  from  Jove, 

Renowned  and  reverenced  by  the  gods  above 

When  mortals  violate  her  sacred  laws, 

When  judges  hear  the  bribe,  and  not  the  cause, 

Close  by  her  parent  god  behold  her  stand. 

And  urge  the  punishment  their  crimes  demand.' 

I  Hesiod,  "  Works  and  Days, "223 — 229,  236 — 239,  246—260. 


292    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

The  great  paradox,  which  underlies  the  whole  cos- 
mogony of  Hesiod  remains  nevertheless,  since  it  is 
taken  for  granted  that  evil  is  among  the  first  principles  of 
all  things ;  but  the  voice  of  conscience  has  been  lifted  up 
and  must  make  itself  heard  in  spite  of  all  merely  intellectual 
resistance.  The  saying  of  the  poet  is  no  longer  true,  that 
no  remedy  is  left  for  the  ills  of  mortals. 

If  they  have  offended  their  god,  this  god  does  not 
punish  them  arbitrarily  and  capriciously.  It  is  possible 
to  appease  him  and  it  is  through  atonement  that  man 
seeks  restoration.  The  motive  which  made  Zeus  lift  his 
arm  against  Prometheus,  and  against  man,  was  not,  mere 
envy,  as  the  poet  had  at  first  implied,  but  the  vindication 
of  his  just  claims.  As  humanism  progresses,  the  moral 
sentiment  prevails  more  and  more  in  Greece  over  the 
contradictions  of  naturism,  and  she  is  the  more  bent  on 
seeking  a  sufficient  expiation  for  sin.  We  shall  see  how 
this  high  endeavour  brings  out  a  new  development  of  the 
divine  idea  in  the  heart  of  this  noble  race,  which  seemed 
in  the  Homeric  poems  to  apprehend  it  only  as  a  distant 
shining  ideal. 

§  III. — The  Greek  Cultus. 

Let  us  enquire,  in  the  first  place,  in  what  way  the  Greek 
religion  in  its  ordinary  observance,  met  this  craving  for 
inward  satisfaction,  before  we  pass  on  to  observe  what 
attempts  were  made  to  supplement  its  deficiencies.  The 
cultus  among  the  Greeks,  as  among  all  Aryans,  was  at 
first  of  a  private  and  family  character,  addressing  itself 
primarily  to  the  ancestors,  who  were  worshipped  under 
the  name  of  Manes,  after  their  ashes  had  been  laid  under 
the  stone  of  the  family  hearth  which  was  the  first  altar.^ 

The  Manes  were  the  objects  of  constant  worship. 
Every  meal  began  with  a  libation  in  their  honour.  The 
sacrifices  offered  to  them  were  preceded  by  acts  of  purifi- 
cation. We  do  not  assert  that  the  worship  of  the  Manes 
was  the  only  cultus,  and  was  not  even  then  supplemented 
by  the  adoration  of  the  gods  of  naturism,  but  it  possessed 

'  See  M.  Fustel  deCoulanges'  able  work,   "  La  cite  antique." 


FIRS!  PERIOD.  293 


for  a  time  in  Greece  the  preponderance  which  always 
belonged  to  it  in  Rome. 

The  fatherland,  as  the  name  itself  indicates,  is  closely 
connected  with  the  worship  of  the  fathers.  The  city  often 
had  a  central  altar,  of  which  Vesta  was  the  tutelary 
goddess.  On  this  a  perpetual  fire  burned.  The  great  gods 
of  the  fatherland  were  its  true  penates.  Their  statues 
were  placed  in  the  cella  of  the  temple,  which  was 
divided  from  the  profane  portions  by  the  portico.  As  the 
house  of  a  benevolent  god,  the  sanctuary  offered  a  shelter 
to  all  fugitives,  even  slaves.  This  right  of  asylum,  so 
rarely  violated,  was  the  august  sign  of  the  divine  hospi- 
tality. The  religious  feasts  were  designed  to  celebrate 
the  glory  of  the  gods,  by  giving  a  representation  of  the 
legends  concerning  them.  Thus  the  procession  of  wor- 
shippers was  of  great  importance.  The  Greek  priest- 
hood was  not  an  exclusive  class.  At  first  it  was  universal 
in  its  character.  Every  father  of  a  family  fulfilled  the 
office  for  the  penates  of  his  own  household.  Even  the 
priesthood  engaged  in  public  worship,  did  not  constitute 
a  caste.  So  long  as  the  Greek  cities  had  kings,  these 
were  the  first  priests,  a  human  and  lay  character 
being  thus  attached  to  the  priesthood.  When  it  became 
fixed  in  certain  families,  they  were  not  on  that  account 
excluded  from  common  life,  in  which  the  priests  them- 
selves took  their  part.  Subsequently,  the  priesthood 
became  elective,  a  clear  proof  of  the  absence  of  the 
exclusive  spirit  of  caste.  It  was  not  the  less  held  in 
honour  and  amply  remunerated,  both  by  the  sacrifices  and 
by  pious  foundations  left  to  the  temples.  The  idea  of 
purity  was  moreover  always  associated  with  the  priest- 
hood ;  thus  there  were  manifold  rites  of  purification  to  be 
observed  by  the  officiating  priest. 

The  priestly  office  must  be  distinguished  from  the 
mantic  art  or  interpretation,  of  oracles,  which  played  so 
important  a  part  in  Greece,  especially  at  Delphi.  We 
shall  see  how  a  religious  guild,  isolated  from  the  rest  of 
the  country,  grew  up  there,  with  the  character  of  fixity, 
necessary  for  the  maintenance  of  the  tradition.  Hymns 
in  honour  of  the  gods  were  an  important  part  of  worship. 
The  choruses  sang  and  danced  at  the  same  time. 


294    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

In  the  religion  of  Greece,  as  in  all  the  nature-religicns, 
sacrifice  was,  in  the  first  place,  an  offering  to  the  gods,  de- 
signed to  procure  their  favour  by  making  them  sharers  in 
man's  best,  and  even  by  offering  them  sacred  food.  The 
libation  conveyed  the  healing  draught  to  them  through 
fissures  in  the  ground.  The  victim  when  consumed  by 
fire,  served  them  as  food.  In  later  times  their  worshippers 
ate  in  their  name,  the  meat  on  the  altar.  The  gods 
breathed  in  the  smoke  of  the  holocaust.  Sacrifices  were 
indefinitely  multiplied.  They  were  offered  on  all  special 
occasions  in  private  and  public  life.  Every  sacrifice  v/as 
accompanied  with  a  prayer  to  all  the  gods.  The  sacrifices 
soon  assumed  a  more  elevated  character,  when  expiatory 
virtue  began  to  be  attributed  to  tham.  There  were  also 
holy  ablutions  which  were  sometimes  real  baptisms.  It  is 
beyond  question  that  the  shedding  of  the  blood  of  the 
victim  had  a  holier  significance  than  the  holocaust,  which 
was  merely  designed  to  supply  the  aliment  for  the  gods. 
As  the  sacrifice  was  looked  upon  as  a  means  of  expiating 
sin,  its  virtue  was  supposed  to  be  in  proportion  to  the 
dignity  of  the  sufferer.  Hence,  in  remote  times,  human 
sacrifices  were  offered — a  practice  perpetuated  even  in  the 
days  of  Homer,  as  we  gather  from  the  sacrifice  of  the 
daughter  of  Agamemnon.  There  is  abundant  evidence 
of  the  expiatory  intention  of  these  sacrifices  of  blood, 
and  especially  of  the  human  sacrifices.  Of  this  we  have 
examples  at  Athens,  where  Erechtheus  sacrificed  his 
daughters,  and  at  Thebes  where  Tiresias  ordered  Creon  to 
offer  up  his  son.^  In  Boectia,  where  an  epidemic  plague 
broke  out  in  consequence  of  the  murder  of  a  priest  of 
Bacchus,  the  Delphic  oracle  commanded  the  sacrifice  of 
a  noble  youth  to  appease  the  god.^  Human  sacrifices 
were  soon  abandoned,  and  certain  animals,  to  which  a 
substitutionary  value  was  attached,  became  the  victims 
instead. 

M.  Maury  well  says :  "  If  a  Greek  thought  himself 
pursued  by  fate,  or  if  he  had  committed  any  crime,  he  was 
convinced  that  by  his  guilty  act  he  had  drawn  down  the 
anger  of  some  deity,  which  he  sought  to  avert  by  sacrifices 


'  Euripides,  ^'  Phsenic."  v.  927.  *  Pausanias,  ix.  c.  8. 


FIRST  PERIOD.  295 


and  rites  of  a  particular  nature.  He  offered  a  'sort  of 
compensation  for  his  crime,  which  he  regarded  as  a  direct 
offence  against  the  gods.  In  the  first  category  of  crimes 
needing  expiation  were  sacrilege,  the  theft  of  sacred 
objects,  and  murder,  especially  murder  perpetrated  in  a 
temple.  It  was  supposed  that  the  god  might  be  appeased 
by  rites  in  which  the  crime  was  transferred  to  animals, 
or  objects  without  life.  The  pig  was  the  animal  most 
commonly  used  for  such  expiations."  ^ 

All  these  attempts  to  appease  the  wrath  of  the  gods 
failed  however  to  satisfy  the  conscience.  Something  was 
still  lacking.  There  was  wanting  a  god  who  should  him- 
self share  in  the  atonement  and  thus  give  it  true  efficacy. 
The  sense  of  this  great  need  brought  about  the  most 
important  evolution  in  the  religious  history  of  Greece. 

*  For  a  detailed  description  of  the  Greek  worship  and  of  its  sacrifices, 
the  reader  is  referred  to  c.  vii.  and  xii,  of  M.  Maury's  "  Histoire  des 
religions  de  la  Grece," 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE  IN  ITS  FULL 
DE  VEL  OPMENT. 

§  I. — The  Worship  of  Apollo. 

N  the  entire  religious  life  of  the  Greeks,"  says 
Curtius,  "no  great  epoch  is  more  clearly  marked 
tha  nthe  first  appearance  of  Apollo."  ^  We  have  already 
seen  this  brilliant  son  of  Jupiter  first  shining  in  the 
heavens  as  a  solar  god,  then  reappearing  in  mythologic 
legend  in  conflict  with  the  black  serpents,  the  symbols 
of  the  dark  powers  of  evil,  or  again  in  distant  pilgrimage 
among  the  Hyperboreans,  representing  the  departure  of 
the  sun,  or  at  least,  the  diminution  of  its  powers  in  the 
wan  winter  days. 

We  observe  the  trace  of  these  solar  myths  in  the  cruel 
death  of  the  beloved  of  Apollo,  the  beautiful  young  H3'acin- 
thus,  devoured  like  the  Phrygian  Adonis,  by  a  wild  beast. 
The  worship  of  Apollo  always  retained  indeed  the  traces 
of  its  naturalistic  origin,  but  it  received  a  new  and  grand 
moral  development  after  the  period  of  the  Homeric  poems. 
Even  in  the  religions  of  the  East,  the  glorious  luminar}' 
of  the  sky  had  become  to  a  large  extent  a  sublime  symbol 
to  his  worshippers.  They  ascribed  to  him  purity  and 
omniscience.  We  know  to  how  high  a  place  the  god  of 
light  w^as  raised  in  tl  e  Avesta  and  even  in  the  Vedas, 
while  still  retaining  the  impersonal  character  which  is 
always  the  weakness  of  the  Oriental  theodicy.  The  genius 
of  Greece  sets  upon  him  the  seal  of  a  human  individuality. 
His  attributes  become  moral  qualities  combining  to  form 
the  living  unity  of  a  person  instead  of  a  mere  abstraction. 

'  Jules  Guard,  v.  1S7— 194.     See  also  Curtius,  vol.  ii.  book  ii.  ch.  iv. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE.  297 

At  first  Apollo  appears  to  us  as  the  god  of  the  sweet 
springtime,  and  of  rural  life ;  the  heavenly  shepherd 
leading  his  ficcks  to  the  mountains.  He  calls  up  before 
us  an  image  of  peace,  of  pure  felicity.^  He  is  at  the  same 
time,  the  god  of  the  lyre,  with  the  Muses  for  companions ; 
the  god  of  song  and  music,  the  inspirer  of  all  poetry. 
But  this  firstborn  of  light  is  above  all  the  god  of  pro- 
phecy, the  great  revealer  to  men  of  the  thought  and  will 
of  Zeus.  Nor  does  he  merely  reveal  the  law  of  good.  He 
is  also  the  Purifier,  the  Restorer,  in  a  word  the  atoning 
god.  He  has  had  need  to  m.ake  expiation  for  himself; 
for  though  he  is  the  beneficent  gcd,  he  is  also  the  god 
who  slays,  the  terrible  archer  whose  deathful  dart,  like 
the  burning  ray  of  the  sun,  consumes  the  life  it  has 
created.  His  silver  bow  is  as  formidable  as  the 
weighty  arms  of  Ares.  But  it  is  not  in  his  nature 
to  smite  past  recovery.  Those  whom  he  wounds,  he 
heals.  His  divine  son  ^sculapius  represents  this  aspect 
of  his  nature,  which  is  one  of  the  noblest.  There  is, 
however,  an  evil  more  to  be  dreaded  than  plague  or 
pestilence.  This  is  the  sin  which  defiles  the  soul  and 
arouses  the  anger  of  the  gods,  such  defilement  reaching 
its  culminating  point  in  murder.  Apollo  was  able  to  wash 
away  this  stain  even  from  the  most  guilty,  all  the  more 
because  he  had  himself  known  the  need  of  purification  and 
expiation ;  for  though  he  had  wrought  a  great  deliverance 
in  slaying  the  Lernean  H3-dra,  he  had  nevertheless  con- 
tracted the  defilement  which  necessarily  follows  murder, 
and  his  long  captivity  with  Admetus  was  his  expiation. 
This  sovereign  gcd  had  had  then  his  access  of  passion. 
The  memory  of  it  was  perpetuated  every  year  during  the 
barbaious  ages,  by  the  immolation  of  human  victims 
chosen  from  among  great  criminals  ;  and  subsequently  by 
the  sending  away  into  the  desert  of  a  youth  who  repre- 
sented the  exile  of  the  god.  His  power  to  deliver  knev/ 
no  bounds.  If  the  fugitive  murderer  received  on  his  brow 
the  blcod  of  the  atoning  victim,  and  was  touched  by  the 
sacred  laurel,  he  was  thus  placed  under  the  protection  of 


'  Upon  this  development  of  the  myth  of  Apollo,  see  Preller,  vol. 
Decharme,  c.  v. 


298    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

the  merciful  god.  Hence  Apollo  was  called  the  saviour- 
god,  and  was  regarded  as  the  redeemer  from  moral  evil. 

It  was  through  the  power  of  these  consolatory  beliefs 
that  the  worship  of  Apollo  exerted  so  great  an  influence 
at  Delphi,  which  became  for  centuries  the  focus  of  the 
nationality  of  Greece  and  the  chief  sanctuary  of  her 
religion.  In  this  secluded  valley  in  the  heart  of  Greece 
the  prophet-god  gave  his  oracles.  It  was  believed  that 
the  Pythoness,  who  was  his  organ,  received  her  inspira- 
tion from  the  smoke  rising  from  the  burning  entrails 
of  the  earth.  The  Delphic  oracles  were  not  necessarily 
prophecies,  for  they  dealt  less  with  the  future  than  with 
the  present.  The  solutions  they  gave  of  the  different 
problems  presented  to  them,  were  inspired  by  ancient 
national  tradition,  piously  preserved  by  the  priests 
of  Delphi.  It  cannot  be  denied  that  these  priests  were 
often  guided  in  their  replies  by  the  intuitions  of  conscience ; 
thus  their  great  influence  was  sometimes  beneficial,  in  spite 
of  the  enigmatic  character  of  their  oracles. 

The  distant  colonies  received  with  peculiar  deference 
oracles  which  seemed  to  them  the  very  voice  of  the  father- 
land, an  echo  of  the  voice  of  the  great  gods.  The  Delphic 
priesthood  had  thus  far  more  influence  than  the  old 
Amphictyonics.  It  did  much  to  maintain  the  unity  of 
Hellenism  in  the  midst  of  the  rivalries  of  the  various 
separate  states.  Its  counsels  were  decisive,  whenever 
the  question  raised  was  one  affecting  the  cultus  or  the 
practice  of  religion.  The  oracle  was  very  far  from  being 
a  mere  vulgar  imposture. 

It  was  under  this  influence  of  Apollo  that  another  in- 
stitution arose,  which  was  no  less  favourable  to  the  main- 
tenance of  the  unity  of  Greece — the  institution  of  the 
Olympic  games,  to  which  the  Isthmian  and  Nemean  games 
were  afterwards  added.  In  these  great  jousts  the  aim  was 
to  give  harmonious  development  at  once  to  body  and  mind, 
by  aiming  at  an  ideal  of  beauty,  strength  and  intelligence, 
which  was  simply  the  ideal  of  a  perfect  manhood.  The 
wrestling,  horse  and  chariot -racing,  boxing,  running  in 
armour,  throwing  the  spear,  and  shooting  with  the  bow, 
were  followed  by  nobler  contests,  chiefly  of  music  and 
poetry.     All  these  games  were  entered  into  as  religious 


THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE.  299 


duties.     The  laurel  which  crowned  t'  e  victor  was  plucked 
from  the  sacred  tree  of  Apollc, 

It  would  be  erroneous  to  suppose,  however,  that  in  this 
Delphic  worship,  including  the  grea :  yearly  games,  the 
only  thing  aimed  at  was  the  symraet  ical  and  harmonious 
development  of  man's  physical  and  atellectual  qualities.^ 
We  must  not  forget  the  poignant  s.  nse  of  guilt  and  the 
yearning  for  reparation  and  expiatio  1  which  Apollo  him- 
self had  felt  before  urging  on  his  worshippers  to  offer 
atoning  sacrifices.  Greece  did  indeed  aspire  to  realise 
the  true  and  perfect  harmonies  of  lift ;  but  she  knew  also 
that  discord  had  fallen  upon  this  \  erfect  harmony  and 
that  the  jarring  element  needed  t(  be  removed.  She 
knew  that  it  was  not  only  by  the  woll-balanced  develop- 
ment of  all  the  natural  faculties  that  true  harmony 
could  be  restored,  but  by  means  of  an  atonement  which 
it  must  be  hers  to  seek  at  the  hands  of  the  most  brilliant 
of  her  gods. 

§  II. — The  Worship  of  Athena. 
Development  of  Hellenism  under  Pericles. 

Whatever  importance  may  have  become  attached  at 
Delphi  to  the  worship  of  Apollo,  who  was  undoubtedly  at 
first  the  great  god  of  the  Dorians,  he  soon  had  to  share  the 
religious  hegemony  with  another  di\  inity  who  exerted  an 
influence  no  less  considerable  over  the  development  of 
Greece.  Athens,  without  making  an «/ thing  like  a  schism, 
and  while  long  remaining  faithful  to  Delphi,  had  her 
special  cultus,  which  was,  in  truth,  the  highest  personifica- 
tion and  most  brilliant  idealisation  of  her  own  genius.  It 
was  presented  to  the  glorious  divinity  who  bore  her  name. 
Athena  or  Minerva  often  appears  as  the  true  sister  of 
Apollo.  Like  him  she  is  a  warrior,  and  victory  her  faith- 
ful companion.  She  diffuses  her  benefits  over  the  earth, 
as  her  worshipper  is  reminded  by  the  mild  lustre  of  the 
silver-leaved  olive  which  is  dedicated   to  her.     She  pre- 

'  On  this  point  we  differ  from  M.  Jules  Girard.  He  sees  in  Hellenism 
only  an  evolution  in  the  direction  of  harmony.  We  see  in  it  the  painlul 
effort  to  restore  a  harmony  broken  by  sin  and  evil. 


300    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

sides  also  over  the  birth  of  children.  But  this  ancient 
goddess  of  the  dawn  becomes  more  and  more  identified 
with  thought.  Sprung  from  the  very  head  of  Zeus,  a 
direct  emanation  from  the  supreme  intellect,  she  scatters 
lavishly  all  gifts  of  the  spirit,  and  quickens  every  active 
faculty,  from  the  lowly  wit  of  the  woman  whose  deft 
fingers  weave  bright  textures  to  adorn  her  husband  or  her 
home,  to  the  genius  that  creates  the  master-pieces  of  art. 
In  a  word,  she  is  the  divine  type  of  thought.  She  is  the 
spotless  virgin  of  Greece,  the  very  impersonation  of  purity. 
The  temple  of  the  goddess  on  the  Acropolis  is  an  immortal 
type  of  the  most  perfect  art. 

The  festivals  kept  in  her  honour  were  noble  and  pure 
like  herself.  "  The  festival  of  Athene  in  the  capital  be- 
came the  political  collective  festival,  the  Panathenaea ;  the 
sanguinary  days  of  feuds  were  forgotten,  and  with  the 
new  national  festival  was  united  for  all  times  the  sacri- 
ficial worship  of  the  goddess  of  peace."  ^  At  the  great 
Panathenaea,  when  all  the  elite  of  Athens  were  gathered 
together,  a  splendid  robe  for  Athena  was  borne  up  to  the 
citadel.  "  On  this  piece  of  tapestry  were  woven  the  deeds 
of  the  goddess,  as  well  as  events  of  national  history,  and 
even  the  portraits  of  the  citizens  who  had  deserved  well  of 
the  city."  ^  At  the  head  of  the  solemn  procession  marched 
the  priests,  those  who  assisted  in  the  worship,  the  magis- 
trates appointed  to  the  charge  of  sacred  things,  and  lastly 
a  chorus  of  young  girls.  In  the  centre  of  the  procession 
were  led  the  victims  for  the  sacrifice.  A  group  of  old  men 
remarkable  for  their  beauty,  swung  branches  of  the  olive 
tree.  "  Lastly  they  were  joined  by  the  victors  of  all  the 
previous  days,  the  handsomest  and  strongest  Athenians 
of  all  ages,  in  chariots,  on  horseback  and  on  foot, 
splendidly  equipped,  crowned  with  wreaths  and  arranged 
in  solemn  order, — the  flower  of  the  civic  community  pre- 
senting itself  to  the  divinity  of  the  State."  ^ 

In  this  admirable  development  of  Hellenic  civilisation 
we  must  recognise  the  share  taken  by  one  man,  who  has 
well  deserved  to  give  his  name  to  the  century.  Pericles 
is  the  most  perfect  type  of  the  genius  of  Greece  in  its  full 

'  Curtius,  vol.  i.  Book  ii.  p.  302.  ^  Ibid.,  vol  ii.  Book  iii.  p.  578. 

»  Ibid.,  p.  578. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE.  301 

maturity  and  consciousness  of  its  own  powers.  The 
grandest  representative  of  the  higher  hterary,  artistic 
and  philosophical  culture  of  his  time,  he  possessed  what 
has  been  well  called,  the  divine  gift  of  government.  He 
ruled  by  the  ascendancy  of  his  genius  and  by  his 
eloquence  over  a  democracy  whose  privileges  he  broad- 
ened, and  whose  hours  of  toil  he  relaxed,  but  whom  he 
never  oppressed.  On  the  field  of  battle,  as  in  the  agora, 
he  stands  unrivalled,  always  maintaining  that  calm  dignity 
which  accompanies  complete  self-possession. 

The  development  of  such  a  democracy  calls  out  all  the 
faculties  of  man,  since  the  duties  of  the  state  were  not 
delegated  to  specialists  but  devolved  upon  all  citizens. 
Never  did  the  tree  of  humanity  put  forth  freer  and  more 
fruitful  branches.  Pericles  did  all  in  his  power  to  attract 
to  Athens  the  masters  of  art  from  the  whole  of  Greece. 
At  the  same  time  he  returned  with  usury  all  that  he 
borrowed,  for  he  was  ever  ready  to  spare  the  greatest 
artists  to  go  wherever  they  were  needed  to  renew  and 
embellish  the  sanctuaries  of  the  fatherland.^ 

Athens  was  placed  in  a  position  of  singular  advantage 
for  the  development  of  the  higher  culture  in  every  depart- 
ment. We  know  with  what  enthusiasm  the  beautiful  site  of 
their  city  inspired  her  inhabitants.  We  need  only  remind 
the  reader  of  the  famous  chorus  in  CEdipus  Coloneus. 

"  Here,  as  heaven  drops  its  dew, 
Narcissus  grows  with  fair  bells  clustered  o'er 

Wreath  to  the  Dread  Ones  due 
The  Mighty  Goddesses  whom  we  adore; 
And  here  is  seen  the  crocus,  golden-eyed ; 

The  sleepless  streams  ne'er  fail ; 

Still  wandering  on  they  glide. 
And  clear  Kephisos  waters  all  the  vale ; 

Daily  each  night  and  morn 
It  winds  through  all  the  wide  and  fair  champaign 

And  pours  its  flood  new-born 
From  the  clear  freshets  of  the  fallen  rain ; 

The  Muses  scorn  it  not. 
But  here,  rejoicing,  their  high  feast  days  hold, 

And  here,  in  this  blest  spot. 
Dwells  Aphrodite  in  her  ear  of  gold."  * 


'  bee  Curtius,  "History  of  Greece,"  vol.  ii.  Book  iii.  etc. 
*  CEdipus  at  Colonus,  6S0— 696,  E.  H.  Plumptre's  Trans. 


302    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

In  the  closing  lines  Sophocles  points  to  the  highest 
glory  of  Athens.  Eloquence,  poetr}'-,  art,  history,  phi- 
losophy, all  attained  under  Pericles  a  degree  of  perfection 
never  to  be  equalled,  for  never  again,  surely,  can 
humanity  know  so  fair  a  spring-time  so  marvellously 
adorned. 

The  whole  scope  of  the  civilisation  of  Athens  is  cha- 
racterised by  Thucydides  in  a  few  strokes  of  genius, 
which  show  how  wonderful  was  the  stimulus  it  gave  to 
the  free  development  of  individual  gifts.  He  says  :  "We 
have  the  advantage  of  not  suffering  beforehand  from 
coming  troubles,  and  of  proving  ourselves  when  we  are 
involved  in  them,  no  less  bold  than  those  who  are  always 
toiling,  so  that  our  country  is  worthy  of  admiration  in 
those  respects,  and  in  others  besides, 

"  For  we  study  taste  with  economy,  and  philosophy  with- 
out effeminacy;  and  employ  wealth  rather  for  opportunity 
of  action  than  for  boastfulness  of  talking ;  while  poverty 
is  nothing  disgraceful  for  a  man  to  confess,  but  not  to 
escape  from  it  by  exertion  is  more  disgraceful.  Again, 
the  same  men  can  attend  at  the  same  time  to  domestic  as 
well  as  to  public  affairs ;  and  others  who  are  engaged  with 
business,  can  still  form  a  sufficient  judgment  on  political 
questions.  For  we  are  the  only  people  that  consider 
the  man  who  takes  no  part  in  these  things,  not  as 
unofficious,  but  as  useless  ;  and  we  ourselves  judge  rightly 
of  measures,  at  any  rate,  if  we  do  not  originate  them  ; 
while  we  do  not  regard  words  as  any  hindrance  to  deeds, 
but  rather  consider  it  a  hindrance  not  to  have  been 
previously  instructed  by  word,  before  undertaking  in 
deed  what  we  have  to  do.  ...  In  short,  I  may  say,  that 
both  the  whole  city  is  a  school  for  Greece,  and  that  in  my 
opinion,  the  same  individual  would  amongst  us  prove  him- 
self qualified  for  the  most  varied  kinds  of  action,  and  with 
the  most  graceful  versatility."  ^ 

If  Athens  was  the  centre  of  Hellenic  culture,  it  had  no 
monopoly  of  the  gentle  arts.  Each  race  supplied  its  con- 
tingent, and  the  Doric  genius  united  with  the  Ionian  to 
swell  the  glory  of  the  common  fatherland.    A  rapid  glance 

*  Thucydides,  Book  ii.  39 — 41, 


THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE.  303 

over  the  history  of  Hterature  and  art  during  this  period, 
will  enable  us  to  follow  the  progressive  development  of 
the  genius  of  Greece,  and  will  prepare  us  to  comprehend 
the  other  evolution  going  on  in  her  religious  conscious- 
ness.^ 

We  have  observed  the  influence  of  the  Homeric  epic 
on  the  development  of  the  religion  of  Greece,  in  the 
preceding  period.  When  individuality,  fostered  by  the 
democratic  system  of  government,  had  asserted  its  rights, 
a  new  order  of  poetry  arose — the  lyric — in  which  the  feel- 
ings and  impressions  of  the  writer  found  free  scope.  The 
elegies  of  Tyrtaeus  and  Simonides  speak  the  language  of 
their  hearts  ;  and  Archilochus  uses  his  terrible  iambics 
as  a  weapon  of  vengeance.  The  individuality  is  still  more 
marked  in  the  Lesbian  poetry,  of  which  we  may  take 
Sappho  and  Anacreon  as  examples — the  verses  of  the 
former  all  aglow  with  intensity  of  feeling,  those  of  the 
latter  all  slight,  voluptuous,  brilliant  badinage. 

But  it  was  the  Doric  race  which  gave  to  Greece  him 
whom  we  may  call  the  lyric  Homer,  Pindar,  the  Boeotian 
poet  was  the  singer  of  the  whole  of  Greece  to  a  far  greater 
degree  than  his  predecessors  Stesichorus  and  Ibycus. 
"  He  belongs,"  says  Otfried  Muller,  "  to  that  period  of 
the  Greek  nation  when  its  great  qualities  were  first 
distinctly  unfolded,  and  when  it  exhibited  an  energy  of 
action,  and  a  spirit  of  enterprise,  never  afterwards  sur- 
passed, together  with  a  love  of  poetry,  art  and  philosophy, 
which  produced  much  and  promised  to  produce  more."^ 
We  shall  see  presently  how  luminously  he  brought  out 
the  essential  idea  of  Hellenism,  the  idea  of  the  hero — the 
ideal  Greek.  The  appearance  of  the  great  dramatic  poet 
coincides  with  the  complete  triumph  of  Hellenism  over 
the  religion  of  nature.  The  drama  is  only  possible  when 
man  is  no  longer  regarded  as  the  slave  or  the  puppet  of 
natural  forces.  Until  this  is  realised  there  is  only  one 
actor  on  the  scene,  namely  nature ;  art  is  limited  to 
describing  the  regular  revolutions  of  nature  under  expres- 
sive symbols  like  those  of  Adonis  or  Osiris.     But  where 

'  On  this  subject  nothing  can  surpass  Otfried  Muller's  "  History  of  the 
Literature  of  Ancient  Greece,"  nor  his  "  Kunstarchaeologische  Wcrke." 
^  "  Literature  of  Ancient  Greece,"  p.  216. 


304     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

humanism  supersedes  naturism,  the  destiny  of  man  be- 
comes the  absorbing  centre  of  interest.  Its  vast  possi- 
biUties  are  recognised,  and  art  enters  the  sphere  of  morals. 
Hence  the  importance  of  the  glorious  development  of 
dramatic  poetry  at  Athens,  the  religious  significance  of 
w^hich  will  come  before  us  presently. 

Another  fact  no  less  important  is  the  rise  of  a  school 
of  really  literary  prose  writers.  Poetry,  as  more  directly 
the  result  of  inspiration,  is  more  impersonal  than  prose, 
which  is  the  clear  and  precise  language  of  the  historian, 
the  orator  and  the  philosopher.  It  is  the  language  of 
action.  Hence  good  prose  writing  implies  an  advanced 
state  of  society  in  which  man  has  definite  recognised 
rights.  The  prose  of  Herodotus  showed  the  influence 
of  the  epic.  The  prose  of  Pericles  and  Thucydides  was 
more  close  and  vigorous,  its  aesthetic  beauty  being  derived 
from  the  harmonious  use  of  language  and  the  logical 
sequence  of  ideas. 

A  similar  development  is  traceable  in  art,  which  in 
Greece  more  than  in  any  other  country,  expresses  and 
sums  up  the  various  phases  of  civilisation  and  the  crises 
of  religious  thought.  During  the  Pelasgic  period  it  was 
coarse  and  rude,  confining  itself  to  the  erection  of  wooden 
temples,  without  symmetry  or  elegance.  The  artist  did 
not  attempt  at  this  time  to  represent  the  gods,  who  were 
not  so  much  distinct  personalities  as  vague  impersonations 
of  natural  forces.  These  were  adequately  represented  by 
a  few  symbolic  signs,  stones  roughly  hewn,  or  columns 
more  or  less  ornate.  Such  were  the  ancient  Hermes,  to 
which  some  impure  symbols  were  soon  added.  Greek 
art  did  not  essay  a  higher  flight,  till  long  after  the 
heroic  ideal  had  found  expression  in  the  poems  of 
Homer  and  his  immediate  successors.  Attempts  were 
indeed  made  to  represent  the  divinity  by  wooden  images 
roughly  carved,  but  there  was  neither  life  nor  movement 
in  these  early  statues.  The  feet  were  not  separated, 
the  eyes  were  marked  by  one  stroke,  and  the  hands 
remained  glued,  as  it  were,  to  the  body.  The  artists 
of  this  remote  period  were  called  dccdalida',  ditdala  being 
the  name  given  to  the  ancient  v/ooden  statues  of  the 
gods. 


THE  RELIGION  CF  GREECE.  305 

The  painting  of  the  sacred  vessels  was  chiaracterised  by 
the  same  clumsiness  and  lifelessness.  In  the  following 
period  (580 — 460  B.C.)  the  artistic  development  corre- 
sponds to  the  development  of  Hellenism.  Architecture 
already  rising  above  its  primitive  barbarism,  reaches  a  high 
degree  of  perfection  in  the  construction  of  the  temples. 
It  expresses  the  twofold  genius  of  the  Greeks  by  two  very 
distinct  styles.  While  the  Doric  column,  rising  directly 
from  the  ground  and  bare  of  all  elaborate  ornamentation 
in  its  capital,  faithfully  represents  the  manly,  vigorous 
character  of  the  Dorian  race,  the  Ionian  column,  resting 
on  a  pedestal,  and  with  convoluted,  and  tastefully  mounted 
capital,  reproduces  the  grace  and  vivacity  of  the  lonians. 

The  Greek  temple  which  at  first  only  has  columns  in 
the  fr. (;ade,  soon  introduces  them  into  the  interior,  arrang- 
ing trem  round  the  cella  where  stands  the  statue  of  the 
divinity.  It  thus  early  acquires  a  character  of  symmetry 
zs\^  unity  which  makes  it  a  harmonious  whole,  in  contrast 
to  the  vast  formless  temple  of  Egypt,  and  the  monstrous 
pagoda  of  India.  Every  part  of  the  building  has  mani- 
festly its  proper  place,  and  due  relation  tp  the  rest. 
It  is  this  fitness  of  proportion  and  grace  of  outline, 
not  massiveness  or  profusion  of  costly  materials,  which 
constitute  the  beauty  of  Greek  architecture.  It  is  an 
intellectual  not  a  material  beauty.  It  would  be  as  im- 
possible for  Oriental  pantheism  to  produce  this  style  of 
beauty  as  for  it  to  inspire  an  Iliad.  Sculpture  df^cs 
not  arrive  at  perfection  in  Greece  so  soon  as  archi- 
tecture, and  religious  sculpture  is  the  most  backward 
because  fettered  by  tradition.  The  sculptor  goes  on 
carving  in  wood,  which  he  overlays  with  gold  and  ivory, 
thus  sacrificing  the  aesthetic  to  the  brilliant  and  costly. 
The  gods  are  represented  seated,  with  a  solemn  and  even 
austere  expression  on  their  stolid  faces. 

Sculpture  finds  a  wider  scope  outside  religious  art. 
The  human  model  which  it  begins  to  copy  finds  its  most 
perfect  development  in  the  Hellenic  race,  and  the  gymnastic 
games  give  favourable  opportunities  for  anatomical  study. 
The  friezes  of  the  temple  soon  begin  to  be  adorned  with 
statues  representing  the  combats  of  the  heroic  age. 

The  ^gina   marbles,    so    admired    at    Munich,    belong 

20 


3o6     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 


to  this  period.  They  show  us  exactly  what  the  ancient 
style  was.  It  is  to  be  recognised  by  the  regularity  of  the 
folds  of  the  costume,  the  symmetrical  curling  of  the  hair, 
the  tension  of  the  fingers,  and  a  general  character  cf 
rigidity  through  the  whole  body.  The  statue  is  not, 
however,  fettered  and  immovable  as  in  the  preceding 
period.  It  has  received  a  quickening  impulse,  but  only 
to  a  sort  of  mechardcal  life.  The  features  are  strongly 
marked,  but  there  is  no  soul  in  them  as  yet ;  they  are  not 
lighted  up  by  a  ray  of  beauty  from  within. 

The  next  period  (from  Pericles  to  Alexander,  460 — 3 30 
B.C.)  was  the  great  art  era  of  Greece.  ^Eschylus  and 
Sophocles  then  gave  in  their  poetry  sublime  expression 
to  the  ideal  of  the  Hellenic  race,  while  Phidias  immortalised 
it  in  marble,  gold,  or  ivory,  and  lent  it  a  yet  deeper  and 
purer  meaning.  The  statue  is  not  only  mobile  as  in  the 
previous  period,  it  becomes  positively  living  under  the 
chisel  of  the  great  artist.  It  has  the  suppleness,  the 
natural  charm,  the  freedom  of  life,  and  an  indefinable 
grace  never  since  eqi.alled.  The  marble  breathes,  as  says 
the  poet.  We  have  only  to  compare  the  Greek  statue 
with  the  Egyptian,  to  appreciate  the  difference  in  the  two 
orders  of  civilisation.  Humanism  sets  free  the  human 
form  divine.  It  adv:aices ;  it  moves  at  will ;  the  hands 
are  no  longer  bound  to  the  side,  the  feet  no  longer  rigid 
and  motionless.  Life  throbs  in  the  once  inert  body ;  man 
treads  as  with  the  step  of  a  conqueror  the  earth  on  which 
he  was  formerly  a  slave,  and  the  elasticity  of  his  step 
bears  witness  to  the  lightness  of  his  heart.  He  throws 
the  dart  and  handles  the  sword  with  heroic  grace.  Some 
of  the  works  of  Scop  s  belong  to  this  great  period.  The 
best  known  are  the  Pythian  Apollo  and  the  group  of  the 
sons  and  daughters  of  Niobe.  In  this  group  the  figures 
retain  their  quiet  be  uty  in  spite  of  the  cruel  anguish  of 
the  scene.  Lysippu  •,  who  also  belonged  to  the  school 
of  Argos,  aimed  rat  ler  to  idealise  human  beauty.  He 
delighted  in  the  production  of  athletes,  but  his  favourite 
subject  was  Hercules. 

Architecture,  the  eider  sister  of  sculpture,  benefited  by 
all  the  progress  of  her  sister  art,  and  reached  her  apogee 
in    the  same   period.       In   proof  of  this  we   need   only 


2HE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE.  307 


name  the  Pantheon,  which  is  among  the  temples  of 
Greece  what  the  Olympian  Jupiter  is  among  statues. 
The  Parthenon  was  dedicated  to  the  purely  intellectual 
deiiy  worshipped  in  Athens.  The  building,  which  was 
of  the  Doric  order  of  architecture,  bore  an  impress  of 
grave  beauty  quite  in  harmony  with  the  worship  of  the 
immortal  virgin. 

A  new  order  of  architecture — the  Corinthian — which 
substituted  the  acanthus  leaf  for  the  Ionian  scroll  in  the 
capital,  belongs  to  this  period  of  incomparable  artistic  fruit- 
fulness.  The  temple  of  Jupiter  Olympus  adorned  with  the 
famous  statue  of  Phidias,  is  a  monument  of  its  greatness. 
It  is  the  temple  of  triumphant  humanism,  and  consequently 
the  climax  of  Hellenic  art.  The  young  and  victorious  god, 
represented  glowing  with  pride  because  he  has  mortally 
wounded  the  Python,  is  the  radiant  image  of  the  triumph 
of  humanity  over  the  ancient  gods.  That  which  is  specially 
admirable  in  the  great  sculptures  of  this  period  is  the 
union  of  beauty  and  majesty  ;  the  grave  and  quiet  serenity 
expressed  in  the  noble,  chiselled  features.  "  The  soul " 
says  Winckelmann,  "only  shows  itself  like  a  reflection  in 
quiet  waters.  It  never  bursts  impetuously  forth.  In  the 
representations  of  the  deepest  grief,  the  feeling  is  always 
restrained  from  excess  ;  and  the  sweetest  joys  stir  the 
soul  only  as  a  zephyr  kisses  the  young  leaves."  Never  did 
a  nation  better  express  her  genius  in  her  works  than 
Greece.  She  seems  herself  to  live  before  us  in  the 
representation  of  her  favourite  goddesses,  exalting  at  once 
the  dignity  and  the  beauty  of  man,  calm  and  majestic, 
gracious  and  grand,  ready  for  feast  or  fight. 

We  have  already  named  the  immortal  artist  of  this  period. 
The  Pallas  and  Jupiter  Olympus  of  Phidias  are  his  two 
great  works,  and  indeed  are  the  masterpieces  of  the  art 
of  sculpture.^  These  statues,  executed  in  colossal  pro- 
portions in  the  finest  material,  give  to  the  gods  a  sublime 
expression  of  majesty  and  beauty.  They  did  much  to 
purify  the  religious  idea.  The  fragments  preserved  of 
the  friezes  of  the  Parthenon,  show  that  the  great  sculptor 
was  no  less  skilful   in  representing  the  tumult  of  battle 

*  See  "Le  Jupiter  Olytnpien,"  Quatremere  de  Quincy. 


3o8     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

than  the  subhme  calm  of  the  gods.  Whatever  subject  he 
treated,  he  always  remained  faithful  to  his  high  ideal,  and 
preserved,  without  emasculating,  the  highest  beauty  of  form. 

No  one  has  described  better  than  Goethe,  the  influence 
exerted  by  Phidias  in  purifying  the  type  of  the  divine. 
He  says  :  "  A  masterpiece  of  art  once  created,  once  given 
to  the  world  in  its  ideal  reality,  produces  an  ineffaceable 
impression — the  deepest  of  all  impressions.  In  fact,  as  it 
is  from  the  concentration  of  all  the  powers  that  it  derives 
its  inspiration,  so  it  sums  up  in  itself  all  that  is  noble 
and  worthy  of  respect.  It  gives  soul  to  the  human  form, 
and  consequently  raises  the  man  above  himself  and  makes 
a  god  of  him  in  this  present  state — a  state  which  holds 
in  itself  all  the  past  and  the  future.  Such  were  the 
thoughts  which  forced  themselves  on  all  who  looked  upon 
the  Jupiter  Olympus.  The  god  had  become  man  that  he 
might  lift  man  up  to  himself.  The  beholder  felt  himself  in 
the  presence  of  the  highest  majesty  and  became  enamoured 
of  perfect  beauty."  ^  We  know  what  an  impression  the 
Jupiter  Olympus  produced  upon  Paulus  ^mihus,  who 
felt  his  knees  bend  before  its  divine  majesty. 

The  great  paintings  of  Polygnotus  at  Delphi  had  the 
same  effect  as  the  immortal  marbles  of  Phidias.  Aristotle 
said  of  him  that  he  painted  men  more  beautiful  than  nature. 
This  shows  how  far  he  went  in  his  pursuit  of  the  human 
ideal.  On  one  of  the  two  courts  of  the  temple  which  he 
had  to  decorate,  he  drew  a  pathetic  representation  of  the 
fall  of  Troy.  He  thus  raised  to  the  highest  point,  the 
national  sentiment  which  had  just  manifested  itself  so 
heroically  in  the  war  of  independence,  while  recalling  at 
the  sam.e  time,  the  cost  of  such  heroism.  His  second 
picture  represented  the  future  life.  On  the  one  side,  were 
depicted  the  tortures  of  great  rebels,  and  on  the  other, 
the  pure  blessedness  of  the  just,  at  the  head  of  whom 
the  painter  placed  Orpheus,  as  the  type  of  the  genius  of 
Greece,  and  as  a  sublime  impersonation  of  poetry  and 
art  in  their  idealising,  mission.  Polycletus  of  Sicyon,  the 
sculptor  of  the  Juno  of  Argos,  was  the  worthy  rival  of 
Phidias.     After   him  came  Praxiteles,  who  was    scarcely 

'  Goethe,  "  Winckelmann." 


THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE.  3oq 

less  skilful  with  his  chisel,  but  whose  inspiration  was  of 
a  less  noble  order.  He  delighted  in  reproducing  the 
sensuous  beauty  of  Aphrodite.  His  Venuses  are  sirens, 
not  grossly  voluptuous,  which  would  be  incompatible 
with  true  art,  but  of  a  dainty  and  insinuating  voluptuous- 
ness not  less  dangerous.  We  feel  that  the  reign  of  the 
courtesan  has  begun,  and  that  Greece  is  already  declining 
from  the  pure  heights  to  which  for  a  brief  moment  she 
had  climbed. 

§  in. — Development  of  the  Conscie.nxe  of  Greece 
ON  the  Human  side. — The  Great  Mysteries. — The 
Tragedies. 

It  was  nevertheless  in  this  brilliant  city  of  Athens, 
revelling  as  it  did  in  natural  and  artistic  beauty,  that  the 
conscience  of  Greece  was  awakened  to  most  earnest  thought 
on  the  great  problem  of  the  destinies  of  man.  It  is  indeed 
impossible  for  humanism  to  develop  itself  broadly  and 
freely  without  arousing  the  voice  of  conscience,  and  with 
it  a  sense  of  the  deeper  mysteries  of  life.  Thus  in  the 
midst  of  the  enchantment  of  art  and  the  noble  intoxication 
of  heroism,  bursts  in  what  ^schylus  calls  "  the  hymn  with- 
out a  lyre,"  of  the  Furies,  those  terrible  avengers  of  the 
broken  moral  law.  This  is  the  great  soul-tragedy,  the  dark 
mystery  enacted  in  the  depths  of  the  awe-struck  spirit. 
Poetry,  like  religion,  is  bound  at  all  costs,  to  give  scope 
to  thoughts  which  reach  out  beyond  the  present  life.  We 
shall  see  that  dramatic  poetry  in  its  noblest  epoch,  derived 
its  deepest  pathos  from  these  thoughts  ;  while  the  religious 
instinct  .sought  satisfaction  in  new  modes  of  worship 
offered  to  gods  hitherto  obscure.  The  mysteries  of  Eleusis 
were  a  final  attempt  to  give  an  adequate  response  to 
the  aspirations  which  the  worship  of  Apollo  at  Delphi 
had  failed  either  to  silence  or  to  satisfy.^ 

We  have  seen  how  the  problem  of  the  destiny  of  man 
presented  itself  to  old  Hesiod  in  all  its  difficulty.  Whence, 
he    asked,   the    strange  wrath   of  this  jealous  god,   who 

'  See  Jules  Girard,  "  Le  sentiment  religieux  en  Grece  d'Homere, 
a  Eschyle,"  Book  II.  c.  ii.  There  is  a  very  interesting  study  of 
Theognis  in  M.  Henri  Bois'  thesis  on  "  La  poesie  gnomique  chez  les 
Hebreux  et  chez  les  Grecs." 


310     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

seems  to  punish,  as  a  crime,  man's  efforts  after  progress  ? 
Must  he  not  be  an  offended  god  ?  This  seems  the  necessary 
conclusion  from  what  the  author  of  the  Theodicy  says 
of  the  rebellions  to  be  laid  to  the  charge  of  unhappy 
mortals.  The  expiations  offered  at  Delphi  have  not 
availed  to  reconcile  guilty  man  with  the  great  Zeus.  The 
same  problem  was  stated  a  second  time  some  centuries 
later,  with  impassioned  force,  by  Theognis  the  poet,  who 
lived  in  the  great  era  of  the  war  of  independence.  He 
goes  so  far  as  to  call  in  question  the  justice  of  the  gods, 
showing  that  upon  earth,  crime  often  goes  unpunished, 
while  the  good  are  overwhelmed  with  ills.  The  complaint 
of  Job  bursts  forth  abruptly  from  the  midst  of  this  aristo- 
cratic poetry,  which  breathes  the  proudest  disdain  of  the 
common  people,  and  seems  sometimes  to  sum  up  all 
morality  in  a  wise  moderation.  There  was  a  day  when 
Theognis,  seizing  his  stern  lyre,  sent  up  the  complaint 
of  earth  to  that  heaven,  from  which  good  and  evil  seemed 
to  come  down  at  hazard. 

"  Kind  Jove,  I  marvel  at  thee,  for  thou  rulest  over  all, 
having  honour  thyself  and  vast  power.  Well  knowest 
thou  the  mind  of  man  and  the  spirit  of  each  ;  and  thy 
might,  O  king,  is  highest  of  all.  How  is  it,  O  son  of 
Saturn,  that  thy  purpose  has  the  heart  to  hold  men  that 
are  sinners,  and  the  just  man,  in  the  same  portion,  both 
if  thy  mind  shall  have  been  turned  towards  moderation, 
and  if  towards  the  insolence  of  men  yielding  to  unjust 
deeds.  Neither  is  anything  defined  by  the  deity  for 
mortals,  nor  the  way  in  which  walking,  a  man  may  please 
the  immortals.  But  nevertheless  they  hold  wealth  harm- 
less ;  while  they  who  keep  their  mind  aloof  from  worthless 
deeds,  still  are  wont  to  find  the  mother  of  poverty,  want 
of  means,  though  they  love  what  is  just ;  want  of  tneans, 
which  leads  on  the  spirit  of  men  to  error,  hurting  their 
minds  within  their  bosoms  by  strong  necessity."^ 

Attempts  had  been  made  before  the  time  of  Theognis 
to  explain  by  solidarity,  this  terrible  inequality  in  the 
allotment  of  good  and  ill  with  its  apparent  injustice.  The 
sons  were  made   to   bear  the   fatal   consequences  of  the 


'  Maxims  of  Theognis,  373 — 393.     Banks' Trans. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE.  311 

faults  and  crimes  of  their  fathers.  Solon  had  set  forth 
this  sokition  of  the  problem  of  man's  destinies  in 
admirable  words  : — 

"  Punishment  brought  down  by  violence,  is  at  first 
only  as  a  tiny  spark,  but  in  the  end  it  makes  itself 
grievously  felt,  for  works  of  violence  are  not  to  go  on 
for  ever.  But  Jupiter  sees  the  end  of  all  things.  His 
watchful  eye  is  ever  on  the  criminal,  in  spite  of  all  he 
shows  himself  at  last.  But  expiation  comes  at  once  for 
some ;  for  others,  not  till  later.  If  the  guilty  themselves 
escape,  if  the  justice  of  the  gods  does  not  fall  upon  them, 
it  will  yet  come  one  day;  innocent  children  in  generations 
to  come  will  pay  the  debt  of  their  fathers." 

Theognis  indignantly  rejects  this  transference  of  the 
punishment  of  the  guilty  to  the  innocent.  "  O  Father 
Jove,  would  that  it  might  please  the  gods,  that  their 
insolence  should  delight  sinners,  and  that  this  might  be 
agreeable  to  their  mind,  namely,  that  whoso  ruthlessly 
works  daring  deeds  in  his  heart,  nowise  standing  in  awe 
of  the  gods,  that  he,  I  say,  thereafter  should  atone  for 
his  evil  deeds,  and  that  the  fathers'  infatuation  should 
not  in  aftertime  be  a  woe  to  the  children ;  but  that 
children,  who,  being  born  of  an  unjust  sire,  know  and 
do  justice,  reverencing  thy  wrath,  O  son  of  Chronos,  and 
from  the  very  first  loving  the  right  amongst  the  citizens, 
should  not  pay  the  penalty  for  any  transgression  of 
their  sires.  May  these  things  be  agreeable  to  the  blessed 
gods  :  but  now  he  that  commits  wicked  deeds  escapes,  and 
another  presently  suffers  the  punishment.  Then  how, 
O  king  of  immortals,  is  it  just,  that  whoso  is  aloof  from 
unrighteous  deeds,  holding  no  transgression  nor  sinful 
oath,  but  being  righteous,  should  suffer  what  is  not  just  ? 
What  other  mortal,  too,  I  pray,  when  he  looks  at  this  man, 
would  afterwards  stand  in  awe  of  the  gods,  and  enter- 
taining what  feeling?  When  an  unrighteous  infatuated 
man,  having  avoided  the  wrath  neither  of  any  man,  nor 
of  the  immortals  in  any  wise,  doeth  wrongs  and  is  glutted 
with  wealth  ;  whereas  the  righteous  are  wasted,  being  worn 
out  by  severe  poverty.^ 

'  Theognis,  "Maxims,"  731-752. 


3T2     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

Theognis  is  thus  thrown  back  on  the  dismal  thought 
that  the  gods  are  envious  of  mortals,  but  he  cannot  accept 
it  without  uttering  an  indignant  protest  in  the  name  of 
outraged  conscience.  His  blasphemy  is  indeed  an  un- 
witting prayer  to  a  god  greater  and  holier  than  the  god 
he  knows.  Placing  as  he  does  in  strong  relief,  the  con- 
tradiction between  the  sense  of  justice  and  the  facts  of 
life — those  at  least  which  he  has  before  him — between  the 
ideal  and  the  real,  he  urges  on  the  conscience  of  Greece 
to  work  out  for  itself  a  new  creed  by  which  it  may  be 
reconciled  with  its  gods.  Accordingly,  he  appeals  from 
all  these  inequities  to  Jupiter,  the  king  of  the  immortals. 

The  only  way  to  exonerate  him  from  being  a  god  of  envy 
and  caprice,  is  first  to  insist  on  the  final  issues  of  justice 
beyond  the  grave ;  and  next  to  look  upon  the  sufferings 
of  earth  in  the  light  of  chastisement  rather  tlian  of 
expiation.  Chastisement  of  the  fathers'  sins  may,  accord- 
ing to  the  mysterious  law  of  solidarity,  be  visited  on 
the  sons  without  compromising  the  divine  justice  and 
holiness,  if  only  reparation  is  possible  in  another  life. 
We  shall  see  these  two  great  ideas  fully  worked  out  in 
the  mysteries,  the  first  in  the  mysteries  of  Demeter  and 
Proserpine,  the  second  in  those  of  Bacchus.  They  were 
only  the  response  to  the  aspirations  of  the  noblest 
minds. 

Although  as  we  have  already  remarked,  both  the  family 
and  the  city  in  ancient  times  sedulously  observed  the 
worship  of  the  deceased  ancestry,  who  had  become  the 
Manes  and  Penates  of  the  household,  nothing  could  be 
more  incomplete  and  vague  than  the  notions  of  the  Greek 
of  the  Homeric  period,  as  to  the  future  life.  The  region 
into  which  the  dead  passed,  was  to  them  a  shadowy 
land,  where  disembodied  heroes  wandered  about  in  a  cold 
pale  moonlight,  looking  back  wistfully  upon  their  past 
life.  Achilles  says  to  his  friend  Patroclus,  who  has 
passed  through  the  gloomy  gates  of  Hades  : — 

"  But  draw  thou  near  ;  and  in  one  short  embrace 
Let  us,  while  yet  we  may,  our  grief  indulge. 
Thus  as  he  spoke,  he  spread  his  longing  arms, 
But  nought  he  clasped  ;  and  with  a  wailing  cry 
Vanished  like  smoke,  the  spirit  beneath  the  earth. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE.  313 

Up  sprang  Achilles  all  amazed,  and  smote 
His  hands  together,  and  lamenting  cried  : 
'  O  heaven,  there  are  then,  in  the  realms  below, 
Spirits  and  spectres  unsubstantial  all ! '  "' 

The  life  of  the  soul  is  so  associated  with  that  of  the 
body  that  if  the  body  is  unburied,  the  soul  wanders  des- 
pairingly through  space.  The  idea  of  retributive  justice 
begins  to  assert  itself  however,  for  the  dead  are  judged 
by  Minos.  We  have  seen  how  Hesiod  describes  the 
terrible  torture  of  the  Titans,  cast  down  by  Jupiter  into 
the  depths  of  Tartarus.  In  this  dark  abode  they  are  to 
be  joined  by  all  rebels  and  great  offenders. 

With  Pindar  the  region  beyond  comes  out  in  purer  and 
clearer  light. ^  He  belongs  to  the  grandest  epoch  of 
Hellenism.  Born  in  521  B.C.,  of  an  illustrious  family, 
he  was  forty  years  of  age  at  the  battle  of  Salamis.  He 
has  all  the  aristocratic  pride  of  his  race  and  never  bates 
a  jot  of  it,  even  in  view  of  that  grand  abode  of  the  dead 
on  the  threshold  of  which  all  inequalities  should  vanish. 
Though  he  says  that  one  end  awaits  us,  whether  we 
have  been  .happy  or  unhappy,^  and  that  "  the  wave  of 
death  comes  alike  to  all,  and  falls  on  the  inglorious  and 
the  glorious,"  *  he  yet  maintains  a  close  relation  between 
the  heroes  who  are  among  the  blessed  and  their 
descendants. 

"  Their  kindred's  rite  the  dead  shall  share. 
Its  praise  departed  virtue  claims  ; 
The  trump  of  glory  echoes  in  the  tomb."* 

These  glorified  heroes  are  at  once  the  models  and  the 
guardians  of  their  posterity.  Like  a  true  son  of  Greece, 
Pindar  is  never  weary  of  extolling  the  great  national 
games,  which  he  looks  upon  as  the  school  of  heroism. 
He  celebrates  them  in  odes  to  be  used  in  processions 
on  solemn  occasions,  to  the  accompaniment  of  music  and 


'  Iliad,  Book  xxiii.  115— 123,  Lord  Derby's  Trans. 

^  Beside  the  works  of  Pindar  and  the  chapters  devoted  to  him  by 
Jules  Girard,  we  shall  quote  M.  Croiset's  v^ork:  '-La  poesie  de  Pindare 
et  Ics  lois  du  lyrisme  grec."     Paris,  1881. 

^  Nemean  Odes,  xi.  21. 

*  Ibid.,  vii.  44 — 46. 

*  Olympian  Odes,  viii.  102—105. 


314     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

dancing.  In  one  of  these  odes,  to  a  victor  in  the 
"  Pancratium,"  he  says  : — 

"  To  various  needs  man's  various  toils  aspire, 
But  most  the  conquering  athlete  burns 
For  the  rich  lay  that  wakes  the  lyre, 
And  waits  on  virtue's  steps, 
Weaving  the  wreath  she  earns."' 

Physical  beauty  is  highly  exalted ;  the  poet  praises  one 
of  his  heroes  for  having  acted  in  a  manner  worthy  of  his 
beauty.     He  speaks  of  him  as 

"  with  manliest  beauty  graced, 
And  rich  in  deeds  that  form  to  suit."  "^ 

The  power  of  humanism  unfolds  itself  in  all  its  glory 
in  the  poetry  of  Pindar.  He  did  not  sacrifice  however 
the  divine  to  the  human.  No  poet  of  his  race  did  so  much 
to  clear  the  idea  of  God  from  the  clouds  which  darkened 
it.  He  says  :  "  Surely  many  things  are  wonderful,  and 
in  these  sometimes  fables,  adorned  beyond  the  truth  with 
varied  falsehoods,  deceive  the  report  of  mortals  .  .  .  Now 
it  is  becoming  to  a  man  to  speak  what  is  good  concerning 
the  deities,  for  so  is  blame  the  less.  O  son  of  Tantalus, 
I  will  record  thy  story,  not  as  men  of  yore  have  done  .  .  . 
for  to  me  it  is  impossible  to  call  any  of  the  blessed  ones 
a  glutton  ;  I  stand  aloof  from  such  a  thought."  ^  He  does 
not  formally  repudiate  the  Homeric  mythology,  but  he 
transforms  and  idealises  it..  He  does  not  divorce  the  idea 
of  the  divine  from  moral  perfection,  but  rather  tries  to 
bring  them  into  unity.  If  Jupiter,  whom  he  calls  the 
king  of  the  blessed,  retains  his  pre-eminence,  Pindar 
seems,  in  imitation  of  the  Vedic  poets,  to  have  attributed 
the  fulness  of  the  divinity  to  each  of  the  great  gods  of 
Olympus  in  turn.  Their  physical  perfections  have,  in 
his  view,  primarily  a  symbolic  value.*  In  noble  language 
he  celebrates  their  moral  grandeur  and  above  all,  their 
omnipotence.  "  The  deity  accomplishes  every  end  ac- 
cording to  his  wish — the  deity  that  overtakes  even  the 
winged  eagle  and  outstrips  the  ocean  dolphin,  and  over- 

'  Nem.  Ode,  iii.  lO — 14.  ^  Olympian  Odes,  i.  43,  59—82. 

«  Ibid.,  32—33.  "  CroiscUe,  p.  379. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE.  315 

throws  one  amongst  haughty  mortals,  and  to  others  grants 
unfading  glory."  ^  "  Zeus  dispenses  various  fortune  ;  Zeus 
who  is  lord  of  all.  But  even  such  glories  as  these 
(victories  in  the  games)  love  the  joyful  hymn  of  victory."  ^ 

"The  man  by  fortune  raised,  thatholds 
Unflushed  with  pride  his  blameless  course, 
Though  glory's  wreath  his  front  enfolds, 
Or  wealth  with  power  hath  blessed  his  store, 
His  country's  praise  to  deathless  fame  shall  give. 
Yet  but  from  thee  th'  exalted  virtues  flow, 
All-bounteous  Jove  !  and  they  that  know 
And  fear  thy  laws,  rejoice  and  live ; 
While  he  that  walks  sin's  wandering  way 
Ends  not  in  bliss  the  changeful  day. 
Reward  awaits  the  virtuous  deed ; 
The  brave  command  the  grateful  lyre ; 
For  them  the  applauding  Graces  lead   ' 

And  swell  the  loud,  triumphal  choir. 

#  #  «  • 

But  time,  as  rolling  seasons  onward  move, 
His  altering  hand  on  all  things  laj's  ; 
The  sons  of  gods  alone,  nor  chance,  nor  change,  can 
wound."  ^ 

Pindar  was  exercised  like  the  other  poets,  by  the  pro- 
blem of  man's  destiny,  but  his  firm  belief  in  the  immor- 
tality of  the  soul,  which  he  regards  as  the  only  sufficient 
sanction  of  the  moral  law,  prevents  his  sinking,  like 
Theognis,  into  blasphemy  and  despair.  "  In  brief  period 
does  the  happiness  of  mortals  increase,  and  so  too  does 
it  fall  to  the  ground,  shaken  by  the  stern  decree  of  the 
deity.  Creatures  of  a  day  !  What  are  we  ?  What  are  we 
not  ?  Man  is  but  the  dream  of  a  shadow.  But  yet  when 
heaven-sent  glory  comes,  brilliant  light  is  present  to 
mortals  and  gentle  life."  ^ 

The  first  duty  of  this  frail  and  ephemeral  creature  is  to 
submit  himself  to  the  power  of  the  gods,  to  prostrate  him- 
self before  them  and  not  to  attempt  to  overstep  the  limita- 
tions of  his  lot,  by  seeking  excessive  prosperity.  He 
ought  to  recognise  in  the  succession  of  good  and  ill  which 
the  gods  dispense  to  him,  their  fixed  design  not  to  permit 
him    to  enjoy  unbroken  or  unclouded  happiness.     They 

'  Pythian  Odes,  ii.  90 — 96.  '  Ibid.,  Ode  iii.  r — 14,  29 — 31. 

*  Isthmian  Odes,  iv.  65 — 70.  *  Pythian  Odes,  viii.  130 — 139. 


3i6     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

will  not  have  him  become  their  rival.  Pindar  says:  "If 
thou  understandest  to  read  aright  the  recondite  sense  of 
legendary  tales,  thou  knowest,  being  instructed  by  those 
of  old,  that,  for  one  blessing,  the  immortals  distribute  two 
evils  together  for  mortals.  These  morx  niinicroiis  evils, 
however,  the  foolish  are  not  able  to  endure  becomingly, 
but  the  good  do  so  endure  them,  having  turned  their  bright 
side  out  to  view.  .  .  .  -But  if  one  of  the  mortals  holdeth 
in  his  mind  the  way  of  truth,  he  ought  (for  that  he  has 
obtained  them  from  the  gods)  to  enjoy  the  blessings  he  has ; 
but  at  various  times  various  blasts  of  the  soaring  winds 
prevail ;  for  the  bliss  of  man  lasts  not  long  when,  being 
of  exceeding  greatness,  it  descends  with  all  its  weight. 
Moderate  shall  I  be  in  moderate  fortune,  great  in  great ; 
I  will  always  honour  in  my  heart  the  fortune  that  attends 
me,  suiting  my  temper  to  it  according  to  my  utmost 
ability."  ^  Again,  speaking  of  the  victors  in  the  games, 
he  says :  "  May  fortune  attend  them  so  that  even  in  after 
days  splendid  wealth  may  bloom  to  them,  and  having 
obtained  of  the  things  that  are  held  delightful  in  Greece 
no  small  share,  may  they  not  meet  with  envious  reverses 
from  the  gods ;  may  the  deity  be  propitious  to  them  in 
heart."  ^  The  bright  recompense  of  virtue  aw^aits  man  in 
the  future  life ;  but  even  there  the  crowning  felicities  are 
reserved  for  the  elect  of  a  great  race,  for  Pindar  is  always 
a  consistent  aristocrat  in  his  social  and  religious  theories. 
Like  Pascal,  he  seems  to  say  to  man.  "  Exalt  thyself,  I 
humble  thee ;  humble  thyself,  I  lift  thee  up,"  for  after 
laying  man's  pride  low  in  the  dust  before  the  majesty  of 
Zeus,  he  recognises  him  as  a  brother  of  the  gods. 

He  says  : — "  One  is  the  race  of  men,  another  is  the  race 
of  gods,  but  from  one  mother  we  both  draw  our  breath  ;  but 
a  capacity  altogether  different  separates  the  races  of  men 
and  gods,  since  the  one  is  nought,  whilst  the  brazen 
heaven  remaineth  ever  a  firm  seat  for  the  other.  But 
still  in  some  respect  do  we  resemble  the  immortals,  either 
in  mighty  mind  or  in  bodily  frame,  though  we  know  not 
to  what  goal  of  life  either  by  day  or  night  fate  has  written 
for  us  to  run."  ^ 

'  Pythian  Odes,  iii.  141 — 149,  183 — 194,  '^  Ibid.,  x.  26 — 34. 

^  Nemean  Odes,  vi.  i  — 13. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE.  317 

Woe  to  him  who  forgets  this  distance  between  mortals 
and  immortals.  Achilles  himself  for  having  thus  erred 
more  or  less,  was  only  admitted  into  the  abode  of  the 
blessed  through  the  intercession  of  Thetis.  His  exploits 
eclipsed  his  misdemeanours. 

Pindar  insists  strongly,  as  we  have  said,  upon  the 
humble  submission  which  is  the  duty  of  man  in  relation  to 
the  gods.  Their  secrets  cannot  be  fathomed  by  man's 
thought.'-  Virtue  alone  secures  their  favours,  and  it  is  to 
them  man  owes  all  that  is  best  in  his  virtue.^  Virtue 
is  transmitted  by  heredity,  but  it  must  nevertheless  be 
confirmed  in  actual  life.^  The  essential  thing  for  man 
is  to  recognise  the  frailty  of  his  nature  and  to  abide 
within  its  limits.  '*  Seek  not  to  become  Zeus,"  ■*  is  the 
charge,  addressed  to  him,  and  it  is  equivalent  to  saying, 
"  Seek  not  to  supplant  Zeus  in  his  sovereignty."  **  A 
mortal  lot  befitteth  mortals."  ^  Thus  the  jealousy  of  the 
gods  comes  to  be  confounded  with  their  justice.  The 
human  morality  of  Pindar  is  defaced  undoubtedly  by 
some  of  the  blemishes  of  his  time,  but  on  the  whole  he 
maintains  a  very  high  standard.  Humility  in  relation 
to  the  gods,  is  not  to  prevent  daring.  Courage  is  the 
condition  of  victory,  but  the  great  thing  is  justice  ;  happi- 
ness that  is  not  based  on  justice  cannot  continue.  Pindar 
does  not  go  so  far  as  to  enjoin  the  forgiveness  of  injuries, 
but  he  asks  that  justice  be  tempered  by  pity.  "  Touch  a 
wound,"  he  says,  "  with  a  light  hand."  Temperance, 
patience,  and  fairness  are  enjoined. 

This  morality  finds  partial  sanction  in  a  sufficiently 
vague  metempsychosis.  In  his  second  Olympian  ode, 
Pindar  says  : — 

"  The  happy  mortal  who  these  treasures  shares, 
Well  knows  what  Fate  attends  his  gen'rous  cares, 
Knows,  that  bej'ond  the  verge  of  life  and  light, 
In  the  sad  regions  of  infernal  night. 
The  fierce,  impracticable,  churlish  mind 
Avenging  gods  and  penal  woes  shall  find. 
Where  strict  inquiring  justice  shall  bewray 
The  crimes  committed  in  the  realms  of  day. 

'  Bergk,  "  Fragments,"  39.  ^  Isthmian  Odes,  i. 

*  Ibid.,  51.  ■•  ZePs  7ef eo-^ai,  Ibid.,  iv. 

^  Ibid.,  iv. 


3i8    THE  ANCIEN2  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIAXIIY. 

The  impartial  judge  the  rigid  law  declares, 

No  more  to  be  revers'd  by  penitence  or  prayers. 

But  in  the  happy  fields  of  light 
"Where  Phoebus  with  an  equal  ray 

Illuminates  the  balmy  night 
And  gilds  the  cloudless  day, 
In  peaceful  unmolested  joy, 
The  good  their  smiling  hours  employ. 
Them  no  uneasy  wants  constrain 
To  vex  th'  ungrateful  soil, 
To  tempt  the  dangers  of  the  billowy  main, 
And  break  their  strength  with  unabating  toil, 
A  frail,  disastrous  being,  to  maintain  ; 

But  in  their  joyous  calm  abodes. 
The  recompense  of  justice  they  receive, 

And  in  the  fellowship  of  gods 
Without  a  tear  eternal  ages  live. 
While  banished  by  the  Fates  from  joy  and  rest, 
Intolerable  woes  the  impious  soul  infest."  ' 

It  is  clear  that  Pindar  combined  the  Pythagorean  idea 
of  the  transmigration  of  souls  with  a  firm  belief  in  the 
sanctions  of  the  future.  His  brilliant  imagination  delighted 
in  depicting  the  mild  splendour  of  the  fortunate  isles 
where  blow  the  refreshing  breezes  of  ocean,  which  are 
adorned  with  the  glory  of  an  everlasting  spring,  while 
their  righteous  inhabitants  celebrate  the  great  Blessed 
One  in  songs  of  praise. 

"  But  they  who  in  true  virtue  strong. 
The  third  purgation  can  endure  ; 
And  keep  their  minds  from  fraudful  wrong 
And  guilt's  contagion  pure ; 
They  through  the  starry  paths  of  Jove 
To  Saturn's  blissful  seat  remove. 
Where  fragrant  breezes,  vernal  airs. 
Sweet  children  of  the  main, 
Purge  the  blest  island  from  corroding  cares, 
And  fan  the  bosom  of  each  verdant  plain : 
Whose  fertile  soil  immortal  fruitage  bears  ; 
Trees,  from  whose  flowering  branches  flow, 
Arrayed  in  golden  bloom,  refulgent  beams  ; 
And  flowers  of  golden  hue,  that  blow 
On  the  fresh  borders  of  their  parent  streams. 
These,  by  the  blest,  in  solemn  triumph  worn, 
Their  unpolluted  hands  and  clustering  locks  adorn."* 


Pindar,  Olympian  Odes,  104—122.  Mbid.,  123—135 


THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE.  319 

Pindar  holds  as  strongly  as  any  the  solidarity  which 
binds  one  generation  to  another  in  a  common  glory  or 
shame,  but  as  he  admits  restoration  and  purification  be- 
yond the  grave,  he  does  not  impeach  the  eternal  justice. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  Pindar  largely  derived  his 
exalted  conceptions  of  the  future  life,  from  the  remarkable 
movement  which  gave  birth  to  the  Orphic  theology  and 
to  the  mysteries  of  Eleusis. 

These  great  mysteries  were  specially  designed  to  take 
away  the  fear  of  death,  and  to  give  peace  to  the  troubled 
conscience.^  The  testimony  of  ancient  authors  is  very 
positive  on  this  point.  "  These  mysteries,"  says  Isocrates 
in  his  Panegyric,  "  assure  to  those  who  are  admitted  to 
them,  the  sweetest  hopes,  not  only  for  the  close  of  this 
life,  but  also  for  all  time."  ^  Cicero  says  with  regard  to 
them  :  "  We  have  not  only  found  in  them  the  means  of 
living  with  joy,  but  also  of  dying  with  a  better  hope  in 
death."  3 

If  these  mysteries  are  connected  with  Ceres  and  Proser- 
pine, it  is  for  deep  reasons  which  come  out  in  the  famous 
Homeric  hymn  to  Demeter,  which  contains  the  sacred 
legend  dramatically  represented  at  Eleusis.  Ceres  went 
everywhere  seeking  her  daughter  Proserpine,  carried  off 
by  Pluto,  She  came  to  Eleusis,  worn  out  with  fatigue 
and  disguised  as  an  old  woman.  Received  by  the 
daughter  of  King  Celeus,  and  diverted  for  a  moment  by 
the  coarse  jokes  of  lambe  the  slave  of  Metanira,  Celeus' 
wife,  she  devoted  herself  to  the  education  of  Triptolemus, 
the  son  of  Celeus,  and  placed  him  in  the  fire  in  order  to 
destroy  his  mortal  parts.  His  mother  Metanira  screamed 
out  at  the  sight  and  the  spell  was  broken.  Her  son  could 
not  be  a  god,  only  a  hero,  benefactor  of  his  country. 
Such  was  the  declaration  of  the  goddess,  who  suddenly 
revealed  herself,  and  to  whom  a  temple  was  dedicated  at 
Eleusis.  Furious  at  not  finding  her  daughter,  she  smote 
the  earth  with  sterility,  and  in  spite  of  the  supplications 

'  See  Preller,  vol.  i.  p.  626,  et  peq.,  "  Memoires  sur  les  mysteres  de 
Ceres  et  de  Proserpine,"  M.  Gtiignaut,  1856.  See  also  the  chapter  on 
the  "  Mysteries,"  in  M.  Maury,  "  Histoire  des  religions  de  la  Grece," 
vol.  ii. 

*  Isocrates,  Panegyric,  c.  vi. 

'  Neque  solum  cum  Isetitia  vivcndi  scd  ctiam  cum  spe  meHore  moricndi. 


320    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

of  Jupiter  and  the  Olympic  gods,  her  wrath  was  not 
appeased  till  Pluto  consented  to  restore  her  child  to  her 
for  nine  months  of  the  j^ear. 

The  mysteries  of  Eleusis,  which  began  with  a  series  of 
purifications  known  as  the  Lesser  Mysteries  in  distinction 
from  the  Greater,  were  a  sort  of  dramatic  representation 
of  the  legend  of  Ceres.  They  took  place  in  autumn  and 
spring.  In  autumn,  they  probably  represented  symbolic- 
ally the  wanderings  of  Ceres  in  search  of  Proserpine  ;  in 
spring  they  represented  the  happy  moment  when  she 
regained  her  child.  The  supreme  initiation  was  the  last  and 
most  solemn  act  of  this  religious  drama.  The  initiate  or 
cpoptcc  suddenly  saw  the  image  of  the  goddess  brilliantly 
illuminated,  appear  in  the  midst  of  the  darkness,  and 
around  her,  the  gods,  represented  by  the  priests.  In 
order  to  understand  the  meaning  of  these  mysteries,  it 
must  be  remembered  that  Ceres  and  Proserpine  were  old 
Telluric  gods.  The  former  represented  the  earth,  and  the 
latter  the  grain  of  wheat.  Just  as  the  seed  goes  down 
in  winter  into  the  heart  of  the  earth,  to  germinate  and 
reappear  in  the  spring,  so  Proserpine  gees  down  for 
three  months  into  the  abode  of  Hades.  The  m3'steries  of 
Eleusis  were  then  originally,  agricultural  festivals,  but 
their  elaborate  symbolism  had  a  much  wider  scope. 
Proserpine,  reigning  in  Hades,  appeared  as  a  tutelary 
goddess  to  those  who  had  to  descend  thither  after  her. 
Her  return  to  the  light  was  a  prophecy  of  immortalit3^ 
Man  also,  like  the  grain  of  wheat,  must  die  to  live  again. 
Lastly,  the  wanderings  of  Ceres  represented  the  wander- 
ings of  the  soul  which  has  lost  the  right  path,  but  finds 
it  again  after  going  far  about.  Two  great  ideas  are  em- 
bodied in  these  obscure  symbols — the  expiation  of  sin, 
and  immortality.  The  purifications  were  designed  to  effect 
the  desired  salvation.  The  great  goddesses  alone  had 
power  to  restore  souls  to  their  primitive  purity.  The 
deep  and  wise  saying  of  an  unknown  author  admirably 
expresses  this  identification  of  the  mysteries  of  Eleusis, 
with  preparation  for  the  future  life:  "To  die,"  he  says, 
"is  to  be  initiated." 

'  Stobee,  "  Anthologie,"  cxx.  p.  l8l. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE,  321 

The  effect  of  these  mysteries  was .  to  render  reh'gion 
more  popular.  The  best  inheritance  in  the  future  life 
was  no  longer  reserved  for  heroes  alone.  Initiation 
established  a  sort  of  moral  equality,  which  minimised 
differences  of  culture  and  descent.  This  was  not  the 
least  of  its  benefits.  As  the  mysteries  of  Eleusis  opened 
to  all  the  gate  of  the  abode  of  the  blessed,  the  ill-starred 
portion  of  mankind  resorted  to  them  to  find  compensation 
for  the  inequalities  of  the  earthly  life. 

The  under-world  had  other  terrors  beside  the  penalties 
of  eternal  justice.  From  its  dark  depths  came  forth  those 
terrible  divinities,  the  personification  of  the  avenging  con- 
sciousness of  crime,  who  were  called  the  Erinnyes  or  the 
Furies,  At  their  head  was  the  implacable  Nemesis. 
They  did  not  wait  till  the  guilty  soul  descended  into  Tar- 
tarus, they  laid  hold  of  it  even  upon  earth,  filled  it  with 
terror,  urged  it  on  with  an  invisible  goad,  and  over- 
whelmed it  with  remorse.  The  great  departed  heroes 
also  kept  watch  and  ward  over  their  kindred,  protecting 
the  good,  and  pursuing  with  their  wrath  those  who  com- 
mitted any  crime. ^  Their  malediction  was  a  sort  of 
domestic  Fury,  bringing  misfortune  upon  their  house  if 
it  was  defiled.  Thus  the  worship  of  the  Chthonian  gods 
with  their  gloomy  train,  developed  at  once  hope  and  fear, 
deepening  that  sense  of  the  need  of  expiation  which  had 
already  sought  satisfaction  in  the  worship  of  Apollo. 

The  consciousness  of  a  great  unsatisfied  need,  was 
significantly  manifested  in  a  new  development  of  the 
worship  of  Dionysus  or  Bacchus.  This  transformation  of 
the  mysteries  of  Eleusis,  which  wrought  so  powerfully  on 
the  Greek  conscience,  was  not  effected  by  a  spontaneous 
effort  of  the  religious  feeling.  It  exhibits  very  clearly 
the  influence  of  a  movement  at  once  philosophical  and 
mystical,  which  was  in  part  determined  by  contact  with 
Oriental  pantheism  whether  Phrygian  or  Egyptian.  This 
theosophy,  so  strongly  marked  in  the  system  of  Pytha- 
goras and  of  his  master  Pherecydes,  gave  rise  at  the 
close  of  the  sixth  century,  to  a  brotherhood  at  once 
philosophical  and  religious,  which  exercised  a  most  power- 

'  Decharmes,  p.  396.      Preller,  vol.  i.  p.  622. 

21 


322     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

fill  influence  over  the  mind  of  Greece,  and  ultimately, 
when  it  became  less  absorbed  in  metaphysical  abstractions, 
led  to  the  transformation  of  the  mysteries  of  Eleusis. 

It  is  not  any  part  of  our  design  to  enquire  into  the 
obscure  beginnings  of  this  brotherhood,  known  as  the 
Orphic  Society,  because  they  claimed  to  be  followers  of 
Orpheus,  the  marvellous  singer  of  Thessaly,  who  had 
gone  down  into  Hades  in  search  of  his  wife  Eurydice. 
It  is  this  aspect  of  the  legend  of  Orpheus  which  connects 
him  with  the  Chthonian  divinities.  The  initiators  of 
this  strange  movement,  attached  the  name  of  Orpheus  to 
the  obscure  hymns  in  which  they  formulated  their  doctrine, 
which  was,  in  reality,  only  a  reconstruction  of  the  Theogony 
of  Hesiod  in  a  pantheistic  sense. ^  Saturn  was  not  to 
these  Orphic  theologers  as  to  Hesiod,  the  blind  force  of 
Nature,  not  yet  brought  under  control.  On  the  contrary, 
they  made  Chronos  the  greatest  of  the  gods.  In  him  they 
saw  the  principle  of  harmony  and  order,  evolving  these 
at  will.  Before  Chronos  was  manifested,  Chaos  and 
-£ther,  the  most  ancient  gods,  had  produced  the  cosmic 
egg,  the  two  halves  of  which,  being  separated,  formed  the 
heaven  and  the  earth — Uranus  and  Gsea.  From  this 
egg  came  forth  Chronos,  the  principle  of  order  and  harmony 
which  exist  virtually  in  him.  He  is  afterwards  called 
Eros,  the  god  of  love,  controlling  the  affinities  of  life  and 
making  it  fruitful.  In  the  system  of  the  Orphics  he 
bears  the  name  of  Phanes.  Through  all  these  evolutions, 
we  trace  the  same  soul  of  the  world  living  again  in  all  the 
gods,  beginning  with  Zeus,  and  finding  its  highest  per- 
sonification in  Dionysus  or  Bacchus.  This  is  no  longer 
the  Bacchus  of  Homeric  mythology,  but  a  new  Bacchus, 
the  son  of  Proserpine,  and  connected  therefore  with  the 
under-world.  In  his  destiny  we  have  the  very  image  of 
the  transformation  of  universal  hfe  through  death.  The 
Orphic  Dionysus  was  torn  in  pieces  by  the  Titans  almost 
as  soon  as  he  began  to  live.  His  palpitating  heart  was 
carried  to  Zeus  by  Minerva.  Zeus,  by  devouring  it,  pre- 
served the  substance  of  the  god  from  destruction.  Dionysus 
came  forth  again  to  a  glorious  life,  and  thus  became  the 

*  See  Maury,  vol.  ii.  c.  i ;  Jules  Girard,  c.  iii,  iv. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE.  323 

symbol  of  the  purification  of  all  'iving  beings.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  he  is  not  to  be  disting-iished  from  the  other 
gods.  He  is  the  immortal  soul  of  the  world,  and  only 
passes  through  death  to  attain  to  th-^  fullest  development 
of  being.  Man  is  born  of  the  ashe/-  of  the  Titans,  with 
which  a  particle  of  the  substance  of  j3ionysus  had  become 
blended  at  the  time  of  his  sacrifice.  Thus  man  contains 
an  admixture  of  good  and  evil,  of  lawless  material  life 
and  of  spiritual  life,  from  which  results  his  twofold 
nature.  His  first  duty  is  to  seek  by  means  of  asceticism, 
to  secure  the  predominance  of  the  soul  over  the  bod}', 
and  to  aim  at  a  higher  and  higher  state  of  purity  in  the 
present  life.  After  death,  he  is  to  be  still  further  purified 
by  successive  transmigrations,  till  he  is  fitted  for  union 
with  the  soul  of  the  world. 

From  a  metaphysical  point  of  view,  the  thought  runnnig 
through  all  these  strange  fantasies,  is  the  same  as  that  of 
Oriental  pantheism,  in  which  the  gods  lose  all  individuality 
and  are  simply  absorbed  in  the  hidden  principle  of  all 
things. 

In  the  Orphic  hymns  which  have  come  down  to  us, 
each  god  becomes  in  turn  the  universal  god.  Zeus- 
Uranus  is  proclaimed  the  generator  of  all  things,  the 
source  and  end  of  all,  the  universal  father.^  The  sun 
"  which  runs  its  round  in  the  whirlwind  of  an  endless 
motion,  an  ever-revolving  circle  of  fire,"  is  also  declared 
to  be  master  of  the  Cosmos.  Chronos  again  is  worshipped 
as  the  generator  of  all  things  ;^  while  it  is  said  of  Hera, 
that  she  communicates  herself  to  all,  and  breathes  into 
all  the  breath  of  life,  so  that  she  also  is  proclaimed  the 
sovereign  deity. ^  Gasa,  the  earth,  might  again  dispute 
pre-eminence  with  Hera,  for  it  is  she  who  sustains  life 
and  is  the  giver  of  all  things.  She  is  the  virgin  of  count- 
less metamorphoses,  the  upholder  of  the  immortal  Cos- 
mos, with  full  and  ample  bosom,  rejoicing  in  the  soft 
breath  of  plants,  adorned  with  countless  flowers.  Around 
her  revolves  the  moving  world  ot  stars  and  eternal 
nature.* 


Orphic  Hymns,  15.  ^  Ibid.,  15. 

IbiJ.,  7,  *  laid.,  25. 


324     THE  ANCIENT  IVORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

This   eternal  nature  is  indeed  the  true  and  universal 
deity,  as  appears  from  the  fine  hymn  : — 

"  O  Nature,  queen-mother  of  all  things,  mother  inex- 
haustible, venerable,  creative,  who  controllest  all,  the 
glorious,  invincible  one,  the  first-born  who  destroyest  all 
things,  who  bringest  light,  who  upholdest  all  by  thy 
strength,  who  goest  ever  onward,  light  of  foot,  chaste 
queen  of  the  gods,  end  without  an  end,  the  common  mother 
of  all,  born  of  thyself,  who  knowest  all  and  art  in  all, 
in  earth  and  air  and  sea  ;  thou  art  implacable  to  the 
wicked,  but  gentle  to  the  good.  Universal  queen  ! 
Blessed  one  from  whom  proceed  all  things  in  their  begin- 
ing  and  their  end—  father  and  mother  of  all  things ;  thou 
who  art  ever  working,  ever  revolving  on  the  wings  of  the 
wind  ;  O  thou  eternal,  immortal  life,  that  dost  manifest 
thyself  eternally  in  new  forms,  the  providence  to  whom 
all  things  belong,  and  who  alone  art  the  maker  of  all 
things,   I  pray  thee  give  me  peace."  ^ 

Such  language  is  truly  Oriental  and  carries  us  far  away 
from  the  Olympic  gods,  the  true  representativ^es  of  heroic 
humanity.  But  it  was  just  because  those  gods  came  too 
near  to  man,  and  resembled  him  too  closely,  that  the 
deep  and  subtle  thinkers  who  founded  the  Orphic  school, 
fell  back  upon  great  mother-nature,  and  prostrated  them- 
selves before  the  soul  of  the  world,  which  appeared  to 
them  far  greater  than  the  passionate  and  capricious  gods 
of  Olympus.  The  ideal  evolved  for  them  by  great  art 
and  great  poetry  did  not  suffice.  They  preferred  to  bow 
before  the  grand,  infinite,  incomprehensible  god  whom 
they  discerned  beneath  the  veil  of  outward  things. 

We  must  not  fail  to  observe  however,  that  their  pan- 
theism was  permeated  by  a  high  morality,  and  that 
while  deifying  nature,  they  aspired  to  purify  themselves 
from  the  lower  elements  they  derived  from  it.  That 
which  impressed  them  most  strongly  was  the  power  of 
nature  to  work  transformations  through  that  which  ap- 
peared to  be  destruction.  Dionysus,  their  favourite  deity, 
was  the  glorious  and  pathetic  symbol  of  the  better  life 
attained  beyond  and  by  means  of  death.    It  was  through  him 

*  Orphic  Hymns,  9. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE.  325 

and  through  him  only,  that  the  Orphic  doctrines  exerted 
an  influence  over  the  national  religion.  This  religion 
allowed  its  followers  to  adhere  to  their  metaphysical 
pantheism,  but  it  gave  a  place  of  honour  in  its  mysteries 
to  their  most  venerated  god,  on  account  of  his  points  of 
affinity  with  the  great  goddesses  of  Eleusis.  This  affinity 
comes  out  very  prominently  in  the  Orphic  hymns.  The 
Proserpine  whom  they  celebrate,  is  clearly  the  Demeter 
of  the  Eleusinian  mysteries,  to  whom  belonged  the  sacred 
rites  of  initiation  into  the  secrets  of  immortality. 
"  Revered  spouse  of  Pluto,"  we  read  in  the  hymn  ad- 
dressed to  her,  "thou  who  boldest  the  gates  of  Hades, 
mother  of  the  Erinnyes,  queen  of  the  regions  below ; 
virgin  who  makest  the  fruits  to  grow,  manifesting  or  con- 
cealing thy  sacred  body,  thou  in  whom  is  the  life  and 
death  of  men,  who  dost  sustain  and  destroy  all  things  as 
it  pleases  thee,  grant  us  a  happy  life  till  we  come  where 
thou  reignest,  O  queen,  with  Pluto  the  terrible."  ^ 

In  another  hymn  Dionysus  or  Bacchus,  the  roaring 
bull-faced  Bacchus,  crowned  with  ivy,  clothed  in  a 
garment  of  leaves  and  bearing  huge  bunches  of  grapes, 
the  great  warrior  of  nature,  is  called  the  counsellor  of 
Zeus  and  Proserpine.^  In  a  hymn  to  the  Eleusinian 
Demeter  who  inhabits  the  sacred  groves  of  Eleusis,  and 
clothes  the  ground  with  vegetation,  this  great  goddess 
is  called  the  companion  of  Dionysus.^  Elsewhere  the 
militant  character  of  the  young  god  is  celebrated  with 
enthusiasm.  It  is  he,  the  god  of  a  thousand  names,  who 
conquers  all,  who  rejoices  in  the  sword  and  bloodshed, 
who  roars  in  his  strength,  the  god  who  grasps  the 
thyrsus  and  bounding  with  delight,  gives  happiness  to 
all.'- 

The  worship  of  Dionysus  only  intensified  that  thirst 
for  immortality  and  purification,  which  led  to  the 
exaltation  of  the  Delphic  Apollo,  and  afterwards  in- 
spired the  mysteries  of  Ceres  and  Proserpine.  The 
Greek  mind  did  for  the  new  gcd,  what  it  had  done 
for    the   Chthonian    divinities.      Starting  with    a   purely 


Orphic  Hymn,  28.  »  Ibid.,  38. 

Ibid.,  29.  <  Ibid.,  42. 


326    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

naturalistic  conception,  it  evolved  from  it  a  sublime 
symbolism.  We  have  seen  that  Proserpine  (after  first 
representing  by  her  descent  into  Hades  and  return  to 
the  light,  the  grain  of  corn  which  only  disappears  in  the 
earth  under  the  dark  mantle  of  winter,  to  come  forth  again 
as  a  golden  sheaf  in  harvest)  becomes  in  the  end  the 
symbol  of  the  Divine  life  into  which  man  enters  through 
death.  The  myth  of  Bacchus  is  expanded  so  as  to  con- 
tain the  same  glorious  promise.  Can  there  be  anything 
more  unpromising  in  appearance  than  the  branch  of  the 
vine  in  the  sunless  months  of  winter  ?  This  dry  branch, 
which  represents  the  body  of  the  god  from  whom  we 
derive  the  elixir  of  life,  is  the  very  image  of  death.  And 
yet,  in  autumn,  that  same  seemingly  sapless  branch  will 
be  again  heavy  with  the  purple  fruit  which  makes  glad 
the  heart  of  man.  Man  sees  his  own  destiny  fitly  imaged 
forth  in  the  life  of  nature.  Dionysus,  the  god  who  dies 
to  live  again,  enacts  before  him  his  own  history,  like  the 
great  goddesses  of  the  lower  world,  with  whom  he  is 
brought  into  ever  closer  relations  through  the  legend  of 
the  mysteries.  He  becomes  the  son  of  Zeus  and  Proser- 
pine, and  sometimes  of  Semele  also,  whom  he  goes  to  seek 
in  the  dark  realms  of  Hades,  like  Ceres  in  pursuit  of  her 
well  beloved  daughter.  He  also  comes  forth  victorious 
from  his  perilous  passage,  and  associates  man  with  him 
in  his  deliverance.^ 

But  the  story  of  Dionysus  is  more  than  a  mere  series 
of  legendary  events.  He,  like  Apollo,  has  to  pass  through 
a  painful  and  purifying  ordeal.  His  temporary  death  is  the 
passion  of  a  god.  It  no  longer  represents  merely  his  seem- 
ing death  as  a  cosmic  force  under  the  icy  spell  of  the  winter 
frosts.  The  whole  earth  becomes  the  theatre  of  his  con- 
flicts with  countless  foes.  Even  after  his  divine  body 
comes  forth  from  the  tomb,  where  he  was  laid  by  the 
Titans,  and  he  has  recovered  his  pristine,  beauty,  he  still 
has  a  perpetual  battle  to  fight.  It  is  only  after  terrible 
conflicts  that  he  comes  back  in  triumph  from  the  far 
regions  of  India.  This  triumph  is  an  ecstasy  of  life  and 
joy    which    the     Bacchse,     his    priestesses,    express    in 


'  Preller,  i.  p.  844,  ei  seq. ;  Decharme,  B.  III.  c.  v. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE.  327 


rapture  described  by  Euripides  in  the  following  exuberant 
verses : — 

"  See  the  Bacchant  is  rushing  ; 
From  the  top  of  his  wand  he  is  holding 
The  far-flaming  torch  of  the  pine  ; 
And  running  he  stirs  up  his  wandering  bands, 
And  rouses  their  heart  by  his  shout. 
Dainty  the  curls  which  he  shakes  in  the  breeze, 
Then  high  o'er  the  gladness  is  heard  the  dread  voice : — 
'  Ho,  hither  !  ye  Baccha; 
Ho  !  hither  !  ye  Bacchte  ! 
Ye  darlings  of  Tmolus,  the  giver  of  gold. 
Come  laud  Dionysus 
With  deep  sounding  cymbals  ; 
Come  pour  forth  your  hearts  to  the  Evian  god, 
In  the  song  and  the  shout  of  your  Phrygian  home  ; 
Where'er  the  sweet-voiced  flute  shall  summon  you 
Holy,  to  holy  sport,  for  ye  are  now 
Wanderers  along  the  endless  range  of  hills, 
joy  only  comes,  as  the  filly  in  springtime. 
Close  by  her  dam  as  she  feeds  in  the  meadow, 
Wantonly  skipping  ;  come  Baccha2  to  me.' "  ' 

This  popular  and  joyous  aspect  of  the  worship  of 
Bacchus  had  no  place  in  the  mysteries  in  which  he  is  the 
most  prominent  figure.  Euripides  gives  a  no  less  ad- 
mirable rendering  in  these  same  Bacchanals,  of  the  truly 
religious  aspect  of  the  worship  of  Bacchus. 

"  He  who  without  grudging  offers,  as  a  mortal  ever  must, 
Due  observance  to  the  godhead. 
Ever  livcth  undismayed. 
I  will  gladly  search  for  wisdom, 

If  the  search  be  not  in  malice  ;  but  this  cannot  satisfy, 
Other  holy  things  I  reverence. 

Which  the  livelong  day  may  guide  me  into  stedfast  purity ; 
To  the  gods  due  honour  giving,  all  unhallowed  rites  I  spurn."' 

And  again 

"  Many  the  forms  in  which  God  is  made  manifest, 
Often  he  orders  what  seems  unexpected. 
Much  men  resolve  on  remains  uneffected, 


•  Euripides,  The  Bacchee,  145 — 169,  Thorold  Rogers'  Trans. 

*  The  Bacchae,  1002— loio. 


328     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

Much  men  cannot  do,  God  finds  a  way  for ; 
Such  is  the  meaning  of  what  ye  see."' ' 

Under-  the  name  of  lacchus,  the  god  who  suffered  and 
conquered  appears  side  by  side  with  the  Chthonian'^ 
goddesses.  In  the  Eleusinian  mysteries,  it  is  he  who  him- 
self leads  the  procession  of  the  initiate.  They  supposed 
that  they  became  sharers  in  his  immortality  by  eating  in 
a  sort  of  mythological  Eucharist,  the  raw  flesh  of  the  bull, 
which  was  his  representative. 

M.  Girard  well  says  :  "  Thus  a  close  communica- 
tion is  set  up  between  men  and  a  god,  who  himself 
suffers  and  enjoys  with  an  intensity  of  feeling  in  which  he 
makes  them  sharers.  In  this  way  their  imagination  is 
excited,  and  they  become  the  subjects  of  an  intense 
dramatic  emotion  which  imparts  a  moral  value  to  the  facts 
of  the  legend.  The  passion  of  Bacchus  is  no  longer 
distinguished  from  the  sufferings  of  humanity.  It  is  the 
symbol  of  them,  and  the  outbursts  of  sorrow  which  it. calls 
forth  among  his  worshippers,  and  the  transport  of  joy 
over  his  triumphant  resurrection,  are  both  alike  natural 
expressions  of  feeling,  under  the  pressure  of  a  religious 
or  poetic  illusion."  ^ 

Thus  by  its  incomparable  power  of  assimilation,  does 
the  Greek  genius  evolve  from  Oriental  pantheism,  which 
had  begun  to  creep  in  upon  it  through  the  Orphic  gnos- 
ticism, a  broader  and  more  living  humanism.  It  rises 
higher  still  in  the  sublime  dramatic  poetry  connected  with 
the  worship  of  Bacchus.  It  originated  in  the  dithyramb, 
a  sort  of  sacred  hymn,  intended  to  represent  the  conflicts 
and  victories  of  the  god.  Its  chief  merit,  from  a  religious 
point  of  view,  is  that  it  popularised  the  beneficial  influence 
of  the  mysteries  of  Eleusis,  setting  aside  all  that  was 
esoteric  merely,  and  fixing  attention  on  their  moral  aspect. 

'  The  Bacchse,  1388— 1392. 

^  Parmenides  recognised  the  close  connection  between  Bacchus  and 
the  Chthonian  goddesses  in  these  words  :  aitrbs  5^  "Ai5r)s  kui  ^lovvaos, 
(Zeller,  "History  of  Philosoph3^,"'  i.  p.  184).  Under  the  name  of  Dionysus 
Zagreus,  the  image  of  the  Hfe-giving  principle  in  Nature,  Bacchus  has 
often  been  placed  in  the  first  rank  of  gods,  higher  even  than  the  great 
goddesses,  but,  under  this  form,  the  myth  concerning  him  is  chiefly 
metaphysical,  and  thus  ceases  to  afl'ect  the  feelings. 

*  Jules  Girard,  p.  205. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE.  329 


§  IV. — Development  of  the  Greek  Conscienxe  in  the 
Great  Tragedies/ 

Humanism  reached  its  highest  development  in  the  great 
tragic  poets.  These  set  forth  in  immortal  types,  and 
under  the  most  pathetic  forms,  all  the  sacred  sorrows  of 
the  conscience  and  all  its  lofty  hopes,  tempering  its  dread 
of  eternal  justice  by  intuitions  of  the  divine  pity  yearning 
to  restore.  Never  upon  pagan  soil  did  the  moral  law  shine 
with  a  lustre  at  once  so  pure  and  terrible.  Never  was 
the  divine  idea  invested  with  such  sanctity.  Never  were 
the  need  and  the  hope  of  expiation  expressed  in  nobler 
lyric  strains,  or  in  dramatic  creations  so  grand  and  life- 
like. Greek  tragedy  is  the  very  drama  of  human  destiny, 
with  its  mysteries,  conflicts,  crimes,  terrors,  and  with  its 
inspired  intuition  of  a  deliverance  equal  to  its  need.  It 
sets  before  us  in  a  drama  of  blood  and  tears,  the  story  of 
a  race  upon  w^hich  presses  the  incubus  of  a  strange  curse, 
bindiiig  the  generations  together  in  an  indefeasible  soli- 
darity, and  urging  them  on  through  the  darkness  into  the 
sure  light  beyond.  We  have  seen  how  powerfully  the 
lyric  poetry,  from  Hesiod  to  Pindar,  rendered  the  sad  and 
sombre  aspects  of  human  existence.  Pindar,  dazzled  as 
he  was  with  the  heroic  glories  of  his  nation,  yet  perceived 
that  beneath  this  bright  exterior,  lay  weakness,  vacillation, 
sorrow.  Empedocles,  the  poet-philosopher,  sees  in  man 
a  god  fallen  through  the  influence  of  discord,  and 
through  the  violation  of  the  law  of  Nature,  which  is  a  law 
of  love.  "  It  is  an  ancient  decree  of  the  gods,"  he  sa3^s, 
"  that  when  a  mortal  destined  to  a  long  life,  has  defiled 
his  body  through  the  sin  of  his  soul,  he  must  wander  far 
from  the  blessed  for  thrice  ten  thousand  years,  and  must 
inhabit  again  in  succession  all  sorts  of  mortal  forms.  I 
myself  am  now  one  of  those  exiles  who  roam  afar  from 
God,  for  having  been  a  party  to  contumacy  and  discord."^ 

An  unknown  Orphic  poet  describes  this  tragic  destiny 

'  In  addition  to  the  works  already  indicated,  we  may  mention 
M.  Patin's  book  on  tiie  Greek  Tragedies.  "  Les  deux  masques,"  by" 
Paul  de  St.  Victor,  is  full  of  enthusiasm  for  this  noble  poetry, :and  catches 
its  true  spirit.     Paris,  iS8t,  vol.  ii. 

*  Plutarch,  "  De  E.xilio,"  17. 


330     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

of  mankind,  with  as  much  beauty  as  depth,  when  he 
says  to  the  mysterious  Phanes,  whom  the  Orphic  poets 
regarded  as  the  organic  principle  of  the  world  :  "  Thy 
tears  are  the  hapless  race  of  men ;  by  thy  laugh  thou 
hast  raised  up  the   sacred  race  of  the  gods."^ 

This  deep  and  melancholy  view  of  human  destiny  con- 
stantly recurs  in  the  two  great  tragic  poets  of  Athens, 
iEschylus  and  Sophocles.  Through  all  the  misfortunes 
of  their  heroes,  we  discern  a  yet  deeper  and  vaster 
calamity  which  prompts  the  lament:  "O  hapless  race 
of  men  ! "  No  misfortune  comes  alone  or  is  simply 
accidental.  It  is  the  result  of  a  long  past,  and  comes  of 
some  ancient  curse,  which  has  already  lighted  upon  the 
ancestors  of  this  same  family,  upon  which  the  dread 
strokes  of  fate  now  fall  in  the  presence  of  the  spectator. 
The  Chorus  is  there  to  make  clear  the  deep  meaning  of 
that  which  transpires.  This  concatenation  of  ills  is  most 
forcibly  brought  out  in  the  trilogy  of  ^Eschylus  on  the 
family  of  Agamemnon.  The  first  link  in  the  long  unbroken 
chain  of  crime  and  catastrophe,  is  the  unnatural  sin  of 
Thyestes,  the  father  of  the  race. 

A  fatality  pursues  the  Atrides,  even  after  the  most 
brilliant  successes,  such  as  the  return  of  Agamemnon, 
announced  by  the  luminous  chain  of  signals  which  the 
night  watcher  perceives  fi'om  the  height  of  his  tower, 
in  the  masterly  scene  with  which  the  first  part  of  the 
trilogy  opens.  This  fatality  is  never  a  capricious  decree 
of  the  gods,  but  a  merited  chastisement.  It  is  so  not 
only  in  the  case  of  families,  but  of  nations  also.  To 
this  the  smoking  ruins  of  Troy  bear  witness,  where  rape 
and  adultery  have  b;  ought  about  defeat  and  destruction. 
The  ancient  city  of  Troy  curses  the  ill-omened  marriage 
of  Paris,  for  from  that  fatal  day  its  annals  have  been 
all  of  suffering,  ^schylus  thus  describes  the  coming  of 
Helen  into  the  city  oi'  liion  : — 

"Yea,  once  a  lion's  cub, 
A  mischief  in  h's  house, 
As  foster  cliild  <  ne  reared 
While  still  it  loved  the  teats ; 

'  Otfried  Miiller,  "  History  of  the  Literature  of  Ancient  Greece,"  p.  236. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE.  331 


In  life's  preluding  dawn 

Tame,  by  the  children  loved 

And  fondled  by  the  old  ; 

Oft  in  his  arms  'twas  held, 

Like  infant  newly  born, 

With  eyes  that  brightened  to  the  hand  that  stroked 

And  fawning  at  the  hest  of  hunger  keen. 

But  when  full  grown,  it  showed 
The  nature  of  its  sires  ; 
For  it  unbidden  made 
A  feast  in  recompense 
Of  all  their  fostering  care, 
By  banquet  of  slain  sheep. 
With  blood  the  house  was  stained ; 
A  curse  no  slaves  could  bind. 
Great  mischief,  murderous. 
By  God's  decree,  a  priest  of  Ate  thus 
Was  reared,  and  grew  within  the  man's  own  house. 
So  I  would  tell  that  thus  to  llion  came 
Mood  as  of  calm  when  all  the  air  is  still, 
The  gentle  pride  and  joy  of  kingly  state, 

A  tender  glance  of  eye, 
The  full  blown  blossom  of  a  passionate  love, 

Thrilling  the  very  soul ; 
And  yet  she  turned  aside, 
And  wrought  a  bitter  end  of  marriage  feast, 

Coming  to  Priam's  race, 
Ill-sojourner,  ill-friend, 
Sent  by  great  Zeus,  the  god  of  host  and  guest, 

Erinnys  bride — bewailed,"' 

The  curse  which  presses  upon  the  human  race  is  to  be 
traced  to  the  same  cause  as  that  which  afflicts  families 
and  nations.  The  claims  of  eternal  justice  in  view  of 
outraged  right  are  vigorously  expressed  in  the  manly 
poetry  of  iEschylus.     The  Chorus  in  Agamemnon  says  : — 

"  The  spoiler  shall  be  spoiled. 
The  slayer  pay  his  debt ; 
Yea,  while  Zeus  liveth  through  the  ages,  this 
Lives  also,  that  the  doer  bear  his  deed, 
For  this  is  heaven's  decree. 
Who  now  can  drive  from  out  the  kingly  house> 
The  brood  of  curses  dark  ? 
The  house  to  Ate  cleaves.^ 


^  iEschylus,  Agamemnon,  v.  717 — 749- 
'  Ibid.,  V.  1562  — 1566. 


332     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

Again  : — 

"  I  stand  perplexed  in  soul,  deprived  of  power 
Of  quick  and  ready  thought, 
Where  now  to  turn,  since  thus, 
Our  home  is  falling  low. 
I  fear  the  pelting  storm 

Of  blood  that  shakes  the  basement  of  the  house  : 
No  more  it  rains  in  drops  : 
And  for  another  deed  of  mischief  dire, 
Fate  whets  the  righteous  doom, 
On  other  whetstones  still."  ' 

Recalling   the    crime   of    the    father    of    the   Atrides, 
Cassandra  says : — 

"  Oh  ills  on  ills, 
Ah,  woe  is  me  !  woe's  me  ! 
Again  the  dread  pang  of  true  prophet's  gift, 
"With  foretaste  of  great  evil  dizzies  me. 
See  ye  those  children  sitting  on  the  house 
In  fashion  like  to  phantom  forms  of  dreams  ? 
Infants  who  perished  at  their  own  kin's  hands. 
Their  palms  filled  full  with  meat  of  their  own  flesh, 
Loom  on  my  sight,  the  heart  and  entrails  bearing 
(A  sorry  burden  that !)  on  which  of  old 
Their  father  fed.     And  in  revenge  for  this. 
I  say  a  lion,  dwelling  in  his  lair 
With  not  a  spark  of  courage,  stay-at-home 
Plots  'gainst  my  master  now  he's  home  returned 
And  like  a  secret  Ate  will  work  out 
With  dire  success  ;  thus  'tis  she  plans  ;  the  male 
Is  murdered  by  the  female."  ^ 

Again  the  chorus  : —     ■ 

"  There  lives  an  old  saw  framed  in  ancient  days 
In  memories  of  men,  that  high  estate 
Full  grown  brings  forth  its  young,  nor  childless  dies, 
But  that  from  good  success 
Springs  to  the  race  a  woe  insatiable. 
But  1,  apart  from  all. 
Hold  this  my  creed,  alone  ; 
For  impious  act  it  is  that  offspring  breeds 
Like  to  their  parent  stock : 
For  still  in  every  house 
That  loves  the  right,  their  fate  for  evermore 
Hath  issue  good  and  iair. 
But  Recklessness  of  old, 
Is  wont  to  breed  another  Recklessness, 


\  Agamemnon,  v.  1530—153^-  I  ^bid.,  v.  1214— 1232. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE.  ^ 

Sporting  its  youth  in  human  miseries, 

At  once,  or  vvhensoe'er  the  fixed  hour  comes  ; 

This  young  one,  m  its  turn, 

Begets  Satiety 
And  Power  that  none  can  war  with  or  resist, 
Daring  that  Heaven  defies  : 
Two  curses  dark  within  their  dwelUng  place 
Like  those  that  gendered  them. 
But  Justice  shineth  bright 

In  dwellings  that  are  dark  and  dim  with  smoke, 
And  honours  life  law-ruled. 

While  gold-decked  homes  conjoined  with  hands  defiled 
She  with  averted  eyes 
Hath  left,  and  draweth  near 

To  holier  things,  nor  worships  might  of  wealth,    > 
If  counterfeit  its  praise  ; 
But  still  directeth  all  the  course  of  things 
Towards  its  destined  end."  * 

In  the  Choephori  the  chorus  says : — 

"  Grant  ye  from  Zeus,  O  mighty  Destinies  f 
That  so  our  work  may  end 
As  Justice  wills,  who  takes  our  side  at  last, 
Now  for  the  tongue  of  bitter  hate  let  tongue 
Of  bitter  hate  be  given.     Loud  and  long 
The  voice  of  Justice  claiming  now  her  debt ; 
And  for  the  murderous  blow 
Let  him  who  slew  with  murderous  blow  repay. 
'  That  the  wrongdoer  bear  the  wrong  he  did,' 
Thrice  ancient  saying  of  a  far-off  time. 
This  speaketh  as  we  speak."  ^ 


Again 


"  Stroke  of  vengeance  swift 
Smites  some  in  life's  clear  day, 
And  for  some  tarrying  long  their  sorrows  wait 
In  twilight  dim,  on  darkness'  borderland, 
And  some  the  gloom  of  night. 
Where  nought  is  done,  holds  fast. 
Because  of  blood  that  Mother  Earth  has  drunk. 
The  guilt  of  slaughter  that  will  vengeance  work 
Is  fi.xed  indelibly ; 
And  Ate  working  grief. 
Permits  a  while  the  guilty  one  to  wait. 
That  so  he  may  be  full  and  overflow 
With  all-devouring  ill. 
No  remedy  avails  for  him  whose  touch 
Comes  on  the  bridal  bed  ;  and  water-streams 

\  Agamemnon,  v.  750 — 781,  *  Choephori,  v.  306 — 314. 


334    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

Though  all  in  common  course 

Should  flow  to  cleanse  the  guilt 

Of  murder  that  the  sin-stained  hand  defiles, 

Would  yet  flow  all  in  vain 

That  guilt  to  purify."  ' 

The  sword  which  slays  the  body  is  not  the  most 
terrible  weapon  of  eternal  justice.  That  which  transfixes 
the  soul  and  fills  it  with  terror  is  far  more  to  be  dreaded. 
The  guilty  man  cannot  escape  the  invisible  sword  of 
remorse.  More  to  be  dreaded  than  the  Fates,  are  the 
gods  from  the  dark  realms  of  Tartarus  who  personify  the 
terrors  of  conscience,  the  fierce  Erinnyes,  the  avenging 
Furies  who  pursue  the  criminal  as  "  the  hound  pursues  a 
wounded  fawn."  ^  So  they  are  described  by  ^Eschylus  in 
the  Eumenides,  Their  terrible  chorus  is  sometimes  led 
by  the  father  of  the  guilty  ones.     Antigone  exclaims  : — 

"Ah  !  thou  hast  touched  the  quick  of  all  my  grief, 
The  thrice-told  tale  of  all  my  father's  woe, 
The  fate  which  dogs  us  all ; 
The  race  of  Labdacus  of  ancient  fame, 
Whence  I  mj'self  have  sprung,  most  miserable, 
And  now  I  go  to  them 
To  sojourn  in  the  grave 
Bound  by  a  curse,  unwed  ! "  • 

We  see  the  Furies  sent  in  pursuit  of  the  unhappy 
Orestes  who  has  killed  his  father,  to  avenge  his  mother. 
These  terrible  avengers  sing  over  him  the  "hymn  the 
Erinnyes  love  "  : — 

"  This  chant  of  madness,  frenzy-working, 
A  spell  upon  the  soul,  a  lyreless  strain 
That  withers  up  mens  strength. 
Such  lot  was  then  assigned  us  at  our  birth. 
From  us  the  Undying  Ones  must  hold  aloof: 
Nor  is  there  one  who  shares 
The  banquet  meal  with  us  ; 
In  garments  white  I  have  no  part  nor  lot ; 
My  choice  was  made  for  overthrow  of  homes 
Where  home-bred  slaughter  works  a  loved  one's  death. 
****** 

Fixed  is  the  law,  no  lack  of  means  find  we, 
Our  purpose  never  fails  ; 

'  Choephori,  v.  6i — 74. 

'  Eumenides,  v.  246-7. 

^  Sophocles,  Antigone,  v.  857  —  869. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE.  ^^5 


The  dreaded  Ones,  the  registrars  of  crime, 

Whom  mortals  fail  to  soothe, 
Fulfilling  tasks  dishonoured,  unrevered, 
Apart  from  all  the  gods, 
In  foul  and  sunless  gloom. 

Driving  o'er  rough  steep  road  both  those  that  see 
And  those  whose  eyes  are  closed."  ' 

Overwhelmed  by  these  chastisements  and  terrors,  man 
turns  to  the  gods,  and  first  to  great  Zeus,  the  "  true  father 
of  all,"  who  is  the  sovereign  of  earth  and  heaven,  the 
supreme  dispenser  of  justice.  In  The  Seven  against 
Thebes  the  chorus  of  maidens  says  : — 

"  The  gods 
Have  yet  a  mighty  power,  and  oftentimes 
In  pressure  of  sore  ill, 
It  raises  one  perplexed  from  direst  woe. 
When  dark  clouds  gather  thickly  o'er  his  eyes." 

But  even  the  power  of  the  gods  cannot  dry  the  burning 
tears  of  remorse  or  remove  the  stain  of  blood.  ' 

"  When  the  hands  of  each 
The  other's  blood  have  shed, 
And  the  earth's  dust  shall  drink 
The  black  and  clotted  gore, 

Who  then  can  purify  ? 
Who  cleanse  them  from  the  guilt  ?  " 

And  again  in  the  Choephori  : — 

"  Because  of  blood  that  mother  Earth  has  drunk, 
The  guilt  of  slaughter  that  will  vengeance  work 

Is  fixed  indelibly ; 

And  Ate,  working  grief. 
Permits  awhile  the  guilty  one  to  wait 
That  so  he  may  be  full  and  overflow 

With  all-devouring  ill." 

In  Agamemnon  the  Chorus  asks  : — 

"  Wilt  thou, 
When  thou  hast  slain  thy  husband,  mourn  his  death, 
And  for  thy  monstrous  deeds 

Do  graceless  grace  ?  "  *  "^ 


*  i^schylus,  Eumenides,  v.  341 — 356,  3S1 — 3S8. 

*  The  Seven  against  Thebes,  v.  227 — 229. 
3  Ibid.,  V.  734—739- 

*  Choephori,  v.  66 — 69. 

*  Agamemnon,  v.  1542— 1546. 


336     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 


The  mere  invocation  of  the  gods  does  not  suffice.  It 
is  not  enough  that  Orestes  appeals  to  the  great  Jupiter, 
on  behalf  of  the  forsaken  brood  of  the  eagle  which  is  no 
more,  and  implores  him  not  to  wither  up  the  royal  tree 
at  the  root.  The  expiation  necessarily  involved  in  the 
merited  chastisemient  does  not  suffice.  Recourse  must 
be  had  to  the  merciful  deities  who  bring  peace  to  unhappy 
mortals.  This  idea  of  expiation  is  very  prominent  in  the 
tragedies  of  ^schylus. 

It  need  not  seem  strange  that  he  does  not  openly 
attribute  it  to  the  Chthonian  deities  and  to  Bacchus,  for 
this  would  be  a  betrayal  of  the  mysteries.  But  it  is 
beyond  question  that  in  his  description  of  the  deep,  un- 
satisfied longing  for  expiation,  he  has  come  under  the 
influence  of  the  worship  at  Eleusis.  He  indeed  makes 
direct  allusion  to  it  when  he  invokes  Proserpine  as  the 
great  goddess  of  the  abode  of  the  dead  :  "  O  Persephassa  ! " 
cries  Electra,  "  goodly  victory  grant."  ^ 

It  is  easy  to  understand  how  Orestes  casts  himself  upon 
the  great  purifying  god  of  Delphi,  in  whose  worship  there 
was  no  mystery,  upon  that  Apollo  who  had  himself 
suffered  for  his  own  purification,  and  who  was  only  a 
precursor  of  lacchus.  In  the  Greek  tragedies,  the  religious 
feelings  developed  by  the  worship  of  Eleusis,  all  centre  in 
the  Delphic  god,  and  he  becomes  a  veritable  redeemer. 
Orestes  says  : — 

"  With  this  my  bough  and  chaplet  I  will  gain 
Earth's  central  shrine,  the  home  where  Loxias  dwells, 
And  the  bright  fire  that  is  as  deathless  known, 
Seeking  to  scape  this  guilt  of  kindred  blood.- 

He  comes  to  Athena  as  already  purified  at  the  shrine  of 
Apollo.     He  says  : — 

"  O  Queen  Athena,  I  at  Loxias'  best 
Am  come  ;  do  thou  receive  me  graciously, 
Sin-stained  though  I  have  been ;  no  guilt  of  blood 
Is  on  my  soul,  nor  is  my  hand  unclean, 
But  now  with  stain  toned  down  and  worn  away  : 


'  Choephori,  v.  490.  "^  Ibid.,  v.  1034— 1038. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE.  -     337 

I,  taught  by  troubles,  know  full  many  a  form 

Of  cleansing  rites     .... 

For  the  blood  fails  and  fades  from  off  my  hands ; 

The  guilt  of  matricide  is  washed  away. 

For  when  'twas  fresh,  it  then  was  all  dispelled 

At  Phoebos'  shrine,  by  spells  of  slaughtered  swine."  • 

The  beneficent  god  lends  him  the  shield  of  his  pro- 
tection. It  is  he  who  represents  mercy  in  opposition  to 
the  implacable  Eumenides,  who  will  not  abandon  their 
prey,  and  complain  that  the  pity  of  the  new  god  over- 
turns the  palace  of  justice,  the  eternal  order  of  things  : 

"  Now  will  there  be  an  outbreak  of  new  laws  : 
If  victory  shall  rest 

Upon  the  wrong  right  of  this  matricide, 
This  deed  will  prompt  forthwith 
All  mortal  men  to  callous  recklessness. 
And  many  deaths,  I  trow, 
At  children's  hands,  their  parents  now  await 
Through  all  the  time  to  come."  " 

Apollo  carries  the  cause  of  Orestes  before  the  Areo- 
pagus of  Athens,  and  gains  it,  not  only  by  exalting 
pardon  above  inflexible  justice,  but  also  by  pointing  out 
the  difference  between  the  murder  committed  by  the 
adulterous  wife,  and  the  act  of  Orestes,  the  avenger  of  his 
father.  As  a  shedder  of  blood,  it  was  fitting  that  he 
should  have  had  to  submit  to  the  rites  of  expiation,  but 
the  moral  law,  without  wholly  acquitting  him,  excuses 
him  in  the  name  of  that  true  justice,  which  does  not 
regard  only  the  outward  act.  Strange  that  the  human 
conscience,  represented  by  the  Areopagus  of  Athens, 
should  thus  have  made  itself  heard  in  the  final  verdict. 
The  old  Erinnyes  may  change  their  name  to  the  Eu- 
menides, "  The  well  nieaiiing,"  after  the  acquittal  of  Orestes 
by  the  Areopagus,  but  they  are  none  the  less  vanquished. 
A  higher  justice,  justice  blended  with  pardon  has  triumphed 
through  the  alliance  of  Apollo  with  Minerva,  who 

"  Like  a  gardener  shepherding  his  plants 
Accepts  this  race  of  just  men  freed  from  ill."* 

'  Eumenides,  V.  235— 239;  276 — 283. 
-  Ibid.,  V.  490—498. 
»  Ibid.,  V.  871,  872. 

22 


338     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

The  plays  of  Sophocles,  who  brought  the  Greek  drama 
to  its  perfection,  show  the  same  inspiration.  He  also 
speaks  of  the  eternal  justice  in  godlike  language  and 
places  the  unwritten  laws  of  conscience,  "  in  which  lives  a 
god  who  grows  not  old/'  above  the  ephemeral  .legislation 
of  the  state.  After  showing  in  his  CEdipus  Tyrannus, 
the  fatality  of  a  destiny  determined  by  the  mysterious 
laws  of  solidarity,  and  bringing  before  us  in  the  opening 
scenes  of  his  CEdipus  Coloneus,  the  innocent  victim  of  a 
tragic  fate,  which  had  made  the  hero  a  criminal  in  spite 
of  himself,  he  shows  how  he  is  greater  in  his  blindness 
and  poverty  than  he  was  upon  his  throne,  greater  in  the 
dignity  of  his  fatherhood  and  in  the  still  higher  dignity 
of  a  forgiven  mortal,  who  no  longer  needs  a  guide  as  he 
enters  the  abode  of  the  gods.  A  heavenly  hght  illumines 
his  darkened  vision.  The  man  who  was  yesterday  an 
outcast  banned,  passes  as  a  god  into  the  invisible  world, 
none  barring  his  right  of  entrance.  The  messenger  who 
brings  the  tidings  of  the  death  of  CEdipus,  describes  his 
passage  into  this  new  light  under  the  conduct  of  the 
Eleusinian  gods.     He  says  : — 

"  'Tis  great  and  wonderful. 
For  how  he  went  from  hence,  thou  knowest  well, 
Thyself  being  present;  no  friend  guiding  him, 
But  he  himself  still  led  the  way  for  all ; 
And  when  he  neared  the  rough  and  steep  descent 
With  brazen  steps,  deep  rooted  in  the  earth, 
He  stood  on  one  of  paths  that  intersect. 
And  then  put  off  his  garments,  travel-stained. 
And  then  he  called  his  girls,  and  bade  them  fetch 
Clear  water  from  the  stream  and  bring  to  him 
For  cleansing  and  libation.     And  they  went 
To  where  the  corn  is  green  upon  the  hill 
Demeter  calls  her  own,  and  quickly  did 
Their  sire's  behest ;  and  then  they  bathed  his  Hmbs, 
And  clothed  him  in  the  garment  that  is  meet. 
And  when  he  had  his  will  in  all  they  did. 
And  not  one  wish  continued  unfulfilled, 
Zeus  thundered  from  the  darkness,  and  the  girls 
,    Heard  it,  and  shuddering  at  their  father's  knees 

Falling  they  wept 

So  intertwined. 

All  wept  and  sobbed  alike.     And  when  they  reached 
The  end  of  all  their  wailing,  and  the  cry 
No  longer  rose,  there  came  a  silence.     Then 


THE  RELIGION'  OF  GREECE.  1530 

A  voice  from  some  one  cried  aloud  to  him, 
And  filled  them  all  with  fear,  that  made  each  hair 
To  stand  on  end.     For  many  a  time,  the  god 
From  many  a  quarter  calls  him  :  "  Ho  there  ! 
Come,  come,  thou  CEdipus  ;  why  stay  we  yet  ? 
Long  since  thy  footsteps  linger  on  the  way." 
And  he,  when  he  perceived  the  God  h  cl  called, 
Bade  Theseus  come,  the  ruler  of  the  land. 

And  then  with  tears  fast  flowing,  groaning  still, 
We  followed  with  the  maidens  :  going  on 
A  little  space  we  turned.     And  lo  !  we  saw 
The  man  no  more  ;  but  he,  the  king,  was  there 
Holding  his  hand  to  shade  his  eyes,  as  one 
To  whom  there  comes  a  vision  drear  and  dread 
He  may  not  bear  to  look  on.  ...  So  he  died 
No  death  to  mourn  for — did  not  leave  the  world, 
Worn  out  with  pain  and  sickness ;  but  his  end 
If  any  ever  was,  was  wonderful."  ^ 

Nothing  grander  has  ever  been  written  than  this  death 
of  ffidipus.  In  Antigone,  "  made  to  love  and  not  to 
hate,"  it  is  not  only  justice  which  triumphs,  it  is  charity 
rendering  good  for  evil,  and  ready  to  die  rather  than  be 
untrue  to  itself.  The  young  Greek  girl  who  nevertheless 
can  but  regret  the  fair  sunshine  of  her  native  land,  and 
thus  remains  pure  womanly  in  the  midst  of  her  self- 
sacrifice,  gives  us  a  foreshadowing  of  the  yet  higher  and 
more  tender  Christian  ideal.  In  the  gentle  virgin  of 
Thebes  we  see  humanism  softened  and  purified.  In  Euri- 
pides it  is  passionate,  pathetic,  full  of  sublime  impulses. 
He  asks  pity  for  the  poor,  justice  for  all.  He  desires  that 
the  good  man  shall  live  for  his  neighbour  and  not  for 
himself  alone.  In  such  a  life  he  will  only  be  imitating 
the  gods,  who  are  the  first  to  have  compassion  on  poor 
humanity.^  Euripides  goes  so  far  as  to  say  that  true 
nobleness  is  that  of  the  soul ;  the  wicked  alone  is  vile, 
even  though  he  be  of  higher  descent  than  Jove  himself. 
The  slave  is  equal  to  the  free  man  if  he  fives  aright. 
These  are  however  but  flashes  of  divine  truth  ;  there  is 
nothing  corresponding  to  them  in  the  social  state  of 
Athens.  We  cannot  forget  to  what  an  extent  Euripides 
really  lowered  the  tone  of  religious  feeling  ;  how  humanism 

'CEdipus  at  Colonus,  1587— 1667.  ^  Stobee,  "  Anthologie,"  612. 


340    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRTSnANIIY. 

under  his  treatment,  ceased  to  express  the  deepest  yearn- 
ing of  the  soul,  and  the  deity  became  a  mere  dens  ex  niachind. 
This  deterioration  was  probably  due  to  the  influence  of 
the  Sophists.^ 

Aristophanes,  the  apostle  and  champion  of  the  old 
traditions,  riddled  Euripides  with  his  railleries.  It  is  true 
that  the  daring  libertinism  in  which  the  great  comedian 
freely  indulged  in  his  marvellous  verse,  was  little 
adapted  to  elevate  the  religious  sentiment.  And  yet 
comedy,  the  pith  of  which  is  the  contrast  between  the 
real  and  the  ideal,  between  that  which  is  and  that  which 
ought  to  be,  does  raise  man  above  mere  natural  life  which 
is  governed  by  inexorable  necessity.  No  one  deems  it 
strange  that  the  lion  should  be  cruel  and  the  fox  cunning, 
while  in  man  vice  and  crime  are  satirised  and  branded  as 
things  which  ought  not  to  be. 

We  must  come  back  to  ^schylus  in  the  grandest  of  his 
works,  for  the  highest  expression  of  the  Greek  conscience. 
Prometheus  Bound  sets  before  us  a  vivid  picture  of 
humanity  and  gives  us  a  new  and  deeper  insight  into  the 
meaning  of  man's  destiny.  It  is  a  very  superficial  explana- 
tion of  this  great  drama,  to  regard  it  as  representing  only 
the  conflict  between  the  last  of  the  Titans  and  Jupiter. 
This  Titan,  the  friend  of  man,  is  his  elder  brother,  bone 
of  his  bone,  flesh  of  his  flesh.  He  has  the  same  eager 
passionate  heart,  the  same  craving  for  independence.  If 
he  seeks  to  emancipate  man,  it  is  because  he  is  conscious 
of  the  same  nature  in  himself.  In  trying  to  make  man 
the  sharer  of  his  kinghood,  he  has  drawn  him  into  his 
evil  case.  The  fetters  which  gall  him  press  as  heavily 
upon  man,  ever  hindered  in  doing  what  he  wills  to  do. 
Is  not  man  also  the  prey  of  the  vulture  which  gnaws 
the  vitals  of  Prometheus,  so  that  the  suffering  cry  of 
humanity  is  bitter  as  that  which  goes  up  from  Mount 
Caucasus  ?  Few  things  in  the  whole  range  of  poetry  are 
grander  than  the  terrible  imprecations  of  Prometheus  : — 

"Thou  firmament  of  god,  and  swift-winged  winds, 
Ye  springs  of  rivers,  and  of  ocean  waves 

*  M.  Havet  has  some  admirable  remarks  on  Euripides,  but  he  shows 
only  his  best  side.  His  observations  should  be  supplemented  by  those 
of  Otfried  MuUer. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE.  341 


Thou  smile  innumcrous !  Mother  of  us  all 

0  earth,  and  sun's  all-seeing  eye  behold, 

1  pray,  what  I  a  God  from  Gods  endure. 

Behold  in  what  foul  case 

I,  for  ten  thousand  years 

Shall  struggle  in  my  woe, 

In  these  unseemly  chains. 
Such  doom  the  new-made  Monarch  of  the  Blest 

Hath  now  devised  for  me. 
Woe,  woe  !  The  present  and  the  oncoming  pang 

I  wail,  as  I  search  out 
The  place  and  hour  when  end  of  all  these  ills 

Shall  dawn  on  me  at  last. 
What  say  I  ?     All  too  clearly  I  foresee 
The  things  that  come,  and  nought  of  pain  shall  be 
By  me  unlooked  for  ;  but  I  needs  must  bear 
My  destiny  as  best  I  may,  knowing  well 
The  might  resistless  of  Necessity : 
And  neither  may  I  speak  of  this  my  fate, 
Nor  hold  my  peace.     For  I,  poor  I,  through  giving 
Great  gifts  to  mortal  men,  am  prisoner  made 
In  these  fast  fetters  ;  yea,  in  fennel  stalk' 
I  watched  the  hidden  spring  of  stolen  fire 
Which  is  to  men  a  teacher  of  all  arts. 
Their  chief  resource.     And  now  this  penalty 
Of  that  offence  1  pay,  fast  riveted 
In  chains  beneath  the  open  firmament. 
*  #  *  *  # 

The  foe  of  Zeus,  and  held 
In  hatred  by  all  Gods 
Who  tread  the  courts  of  Zeus  ; 
And  this  for  my  great  love, 
Too  great,  for  mortal  men."  ^ 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  ^Eschylus  held  Prome- 
theus innocent  in  thus  upbraiding  the  gods.  This  would 
have  been  contrary  to  the  whole  theodicy  of  his  dramatic 
work.  Jupiter  is  to  him  the  god  of  light  and  of  justice. 
The  tragedy  of  Prometheus  Bound  in  no  degree  con- 
tradicts this,  as  is  clear  from  the  homage  paid  to  Zeus  by 
the  chorus  of  the  Oceanides. .  They  proclaim  him  the 
supreme  arbiter  of  fate. 

"What  is  Zeus'  destinj'  but  still  to  reign?"' 

'  The  fennel  or  narthex  seems  to  have  been  a  large  umbelliferous  plant 
with  a  large  stem  filled  with  a  sort  of  pith  which  was  used  when  dry  as 
tinder. 

-  Prometheus  Bound,  v.  88 — 123. 

»  Ibid.,  V.  519. 


342     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

iEschylus  does  not  justify  therefore  the  defiant  words 
against  the  God  of  Ol3'mpus,  which  Prometheus  utters  in 
his  agony.  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  paramount 
idea  of  ^schylus  is  that  suffering  always  comes  from  wrong 
f  doing.  If  Prometheus  is  punished  he  must  have  deserved 
it.  After  being  the  ally  of  Jupiter  in  the  war  against  the 
Titans,  he  had  not  the  grace  to  bow  before  him.  He 
sought  to  snatch  that  to  which  he  had  no  right,  and  to 
raise  himself  to  the  dignity  of  a  supreme  god,  which 
Pindar  had  already  stigmatised  as  the  greatest  of  crimes. 

"  What  thou  dost  wish  thou  mutterest  against  Zeus," 

says  the  Chorus  : — 

"  And  must  we  think  that  Zeus  shall  serve  another  ?  " ' 

Prometheus  is  therefore  punished  as  a  rebel,  and  it  is 
indeed  with  daring  impiety  that  the  human  Titan  utters 
his  cry  of  revolt. 

"  I  excepted,  none  dared  cross  his  will, 
But  I  did  dare,  and  mortal  men  1  freed 
From  passing,  smitten  down,  to  Hades'  depths  ; 
And  therelore  am  I  bound  beneath  these  woes, 
Dreadful  to  sutler,  pitiable  to  see  ; 
And  I,  who  in  my  pity  thought  of  men 
More  than  myself,  have  not  been  worthy  deemed 
To  gain  like  favour,  but  all  ruthlessly 
I  thus  am  chained,  foul  shame  this  sight  to  Zeus."* 

Again  he  says  to  Hermes  : — 

"  I  for  my  part,  be  sure,  would  never  change 
My  evil  state  for  that  thy  bond  slave's  lot. 

***** 

Like  one  who  soothes  a  wave,  thy  speech  in  vain. 
Vexes  my  soul.     But  deem  not  thou  that  I 
Fearing  the  will  of  Zeus,  shall  e'er  become 
As  vvomanised  in  mind,  or  shall  entreat 
Him  whom  1  gieatly  loathe,  with  upturned  hand. 
In  woman's  fashion^  from  these  bonds  of  mine 
To  set  me  free.     Far,  far  am  I  from  that."  •* 

Though  thus  rudely  chastised  by  the  offended  god, 
Prometheus  is  still  a  noble  rebel.  We  have  seen  how 
skilfully  the  poet  brings  out  his  true  greatness  and  dignity, 

'  Prometheus  Bound,  v.  928 — 930.  -  Ibid.,  v.  234 — 2411 

^  Ibid.,  v.  96t-7,  icoi-6,  1023-27. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE.  343 

Hence  deliverance  awaits  him  in  the  future.  There  shall 
be  reconcihation  between  this  proud  unhappy  one  and  the 
great  God  of  Olympus,  who  will  once  again  become  his 
ally,  revealing  to  him  the  powerful  aid,  which  is  to  make 
him  victorious  in  the  conflicts  of  the  future  through  the 
younger  god  who  shall  assure  to  him  his  royalty  without 
challenging  it.  In  Prometheus  Bound  the  Titan  still  blends 
defiance  with  his  prophecies  of  coming  good  ;  ^  but  there 
is  every  reason  to  believe  that  in  the  Prometheus  Unbound, 
which  is  unhappily  lost  to  us,  the  reconciliation  was 
complete  after  the  cruel  expiation  of  Mount  Caucasus. 
The  pardon  of  Prometheus  includes  that  of  the  whole 
race  of  man  dragged  down  by  him  in  his  revolt.  This 
interpretation  of  the  great  drama  of  iEschylus  is  truer 
to  fact  than  that  of  Tertullian,  who  sees  in  Prometheus 
the  Christ  persecuted  by  the  world,  and  exclaims  in 
passionate  indignation,  "  Veriis  Prometheus  blasplieviiis 
laceratus!"  Prometheus  is  not  the  Christ.  He  is  guilty 
man,  enduring  his  punishment,  but  great  even  m  his  fall, 
the  son  of  the  god  of  heaven,  whom  the  god  of  the  future 
will  restore.  This  young  god,  the  deliverer  of  Prometheus, 
is  engendered  by  Jupiter  and  is  the  perfect  type  of  the 
hero  at  once  divine  and  human.  He  is  the  Hercules, 
whose  life  was  one  long  wrestling  with  the  powers  of  evil. 
Did  he  not  begin  by  strangling  two  serpents  in  his  very 
cradle  ?  Neither  the  Nemean  lion,  nor  the  Lernean  hydra 
could  resist  his  extraordinary  strength,  any  more  than 
the  boar  of  Erymanthus,  or  the  Centaurs — so  many  per- 
sonifications of  the  brute  forces  of  nature.  His  valour 
never  failed  in  his  twelve  labours,  which  were  in  truth 
twelve  terrible  and  successful  battles.  He  thus  passed 
■triumphantly  through  the  world,  with  the  one  exception  of 
his  twelve  years  of  harsh  servitude  to  Eurystheus.  Thus 
he  also  had  his  passion,  like  Apollo  and  Bacchus. 

It  is  obvious  that  the  legend  of  Hercules,  like  all  the  other 
Greek  myths,  was  at  first  largely  charged  with  naturalistic 
elements  which  point  to  sun-worship,  but  these  were  soon 
cast  aside.  Hercules  became  the  type  of  noble  and 
dauntless  heroism.     Called  to  choose  between  the  flowery 

'  Prometheus  Bound,  v.  907,  et  seq. 


344     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANIIY. 

way  of  ease  and  the  path  of  virtue,  he  decided  for  the 
latter.  In  many  aspects  he  resembles  both  Apollo  and 
Bacchus,  for  the}''  also  began  with  a  militant  life  upon 
earth.  Hercules  however  comes  much  nearer  to  humanity, 
and  when  he  is  carried  up  to  heaven  in  a  glorious 
apotheosis,  it  is  humanity  which  is  thus  dignified  to 
become  the  victorious  ally  of  Jupiter.^  In  Hercules  we 
have  the  supreme  triumph  of  humanity,  and  we  may 
may  say  also  the  last  utterance  of  Hellenism.  Hercules  is 
not  only  a  glorious  hero  ;  he  is  also  a  suffering  hero,  one 
who  knows  what  it  is  to  get  weary  and  worn  in  the  fight. 
It  has  been  remarked  that  in  the  Farnese  Hercules,  there 
is  a  look  of  as  much  sadness  as  strength.  Without  this 
trait  of  suffering,  he  would  not  truly  represent  Greek 
humanism.  We  have  seen  how  deeply  this  was  imbued 
with  moral  seriousness,  both  in  its  great  mysteries  and 
in  its  noblest  art  creations. 

We  are  thus  brought  to  the  close  of  the  great  religious 
evolution  of  Greece.  We  have  yet  to  trace  the  develop- 
ment of  philosophic  speculation  ;  then  will  come  the  era  of 
universal  fermentation,  when  the  various  religions  all  blend 
and  to  a  great  extent  lose  their  distinctive  character. 

At  the  close  of  the  age  of  Pericles,  the  religious  senti- 
ment in  Greece  reached  the  fullest  development  of  which 
it  was  capable.  Taking  as  its  starting-point,  the  purified 
naturism  of  the  Aryans,  it  rose  gradually  by  following 
its  own  moral  intuitions,  to  a  very  elevated  conception 
of  deity.  Before  this  result  was  reached,  it  did  indeed, 
as  in  the  epics  of  Hom.er,  bring  its  gods  into  all  the  melee 
of  human  passions,  but  even  in  this  fanciful  mythology  it 
retained  a  measure  of  moral  soundness.  Too  often  the 
phenomenal  in  nature  when  vivified  and  dramatised,  as 
it  were,  by  anthropomorphism,  becomes  mere  voluptuous 
legend  ;  but  humanism  never  allowed  itself  to  be  bound 
in  these  flowery  chains  of  a  lower  symbolism.  Conscience, 
which  is  the  distinctive  glory  of  man,  lifted  up  its  voice ; 
and  at  its  bidding,  the  gods  appeared  as  the  impersonation 
of  that  moral  good  which  had  presented  itself  to  man  as 
a  pure  ideal.     Righteousness  thus  becomes    the  law  of 

*  Preller,  i.  257,  ct  scq.  ;  Decharme,  Book  IV.  c.  2. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  GREECE.  345 

the  world  ;  punishment  and  remorse  wait  on  the  guilty. 
Man  himself  feels  a  mysterious  sentence  hanging  over  him, 
and  trembles  before  the  greatest  of  his  gods.  He  casts  a 
terrified  glance  into  the  dark  abode  of  the  dead.  He  asks 
the  most  sacred  mysteries  of  his  religion  to  enlighten  the 
land  of  shades  with  a  ray  of  hope,  and  at  the  same  time 
he  seeks  an  adequate  expiation  at  the  foot  of  the  altars 
of  Delphi,  and  in  the  strange  ritual  of  the  worship  of 
Bacchus. 

The  high  moral  idea  has  flashed  upon  him  in  the  midst 
of  the  clouds  which  rise  from  below  and  too  often  inter- 
cept his  view  ;  but  having  once  seen  the  vision,  he  knows 
that  he  has  failed  to  fulfil  the  law  of  his  being,  and  an 
aspiration  never  to  be  quenched  is  awakened  in  his  heart, 
after  full  deliverance  from  evil.  The  desire  to  attain  to 
this  will  keep  him  in  a  state  of  constant  unrest  and  will 
deepen  his  aspiration  after  the  unknown  God  in  whom 
all  the  prophetic  intuitions  of  his  soul  are  to  be  realised. 

This  higher  development  of  the  Greek  conscience  went  on 
side  by  side  with  advancing  civilisation  and  aesthetic  cul- 
ture. In  all  the  creations  of  poetic  genius  and  art  which 
ennobled  the  public  life  of  Greece,  concern  for  the  high 
and  tragic  destinies  of  man  is  no  less  marked  thgn  the 
worship  of  the  beautiful.  Thus  art  contributed  largely 
to  the  development  of  the  religious  sentiment,  and  to  its 
emancipation  from  the  fetters  of  naturism. 

It  must  be  owned,  however,  that  the  absorbing  devotion 
to  art,  so  natural  to  a  highly-endowed  race  like  the  Hel- 
lenes, was  not  altogether  favourable  to  religion.  The 
beautiful  is  apt  to  become  divorced  from  the  good  and 
the  true,  when  it  is  sought  rather  for  the  sake  of  the 
exquisite  enjoyment  it  brings  than  as  an  inspiration  to 
noble  living.  Sensuality  is  capable  of  dangerous  refine- 
ments. The  Venus  of  Paphos  too  often  carried  the  day 
over  the  chaste  virgin  of  the  Parthenon,  and  the  courtesan, 
who  was  her  impure  priestess,  was  only  too  ready  to  sup- 
plant the  wife  and  mother  in  her  own  domain. 

The  tone  of  social  life  was  thus  lowered,  and  a  false 
security  took  the  place  of  the  noble  struggles  for  national 
independence.  The  citizen  threw  himself  into  the  intrigues 
and  often  petty  quarrels  of  the  Agora. 


346    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

After  the  noble  Pericles,  comes  the  brilliant  Alcibiades, 
marvellously  gifted,  the  bravest  and  most  beautiful  man 
of  his  day,  with  a  giant  intellect  alike  in  philosophy  and 
politics,  yet  in  the  end  making  all  these  great  gifts  sub- 
serve his  own  passions  and  interests,  to  the  sacrifice  of 
liis  country  and  his  conscience.  This  ideal  Greek  was 
in  truth  the  corrupter  of  his  generation.  The  constant 
temptation  of  Greece- was  to  forget,  in  the  charmed  con- 
templation of  her  own  genius  and  beauty,  the  grand 
intuitions  of  conscience  which  had  raised  her  so  high  in 
the  scale  of  religion.  We  must  carefully  bear  these 
antitheses  in  mind  in  the  idea  we  form  of  her.  She 
was  neither  wholly  given  up  to  graceful  frivolity,  as  she 
is  often  represented,  nor  was  she  wholly  absorbed  in  her 
divine  ideal.  She  wavered  between  the  two  extremes. 
This  enchantress,  supposed  to  be  ever  gazing  with 
serene  smile  at  the  beautiful,  heard  nevertheless  the  hymn 
of  the  avenging  Furies,  trembled  before  the  majesty  of 
an  offended  God,  and  sought  with  burning  eagerness, 
atonement  and  reconciliation.  This  dualism  in  her  moral 
life  characterised  her  religion  also ;  for  highly  as  she 
exalted  the  human  element,  she  yet  never  completely 
triumphed  over  naturism.  Her  gods  were  still  nature- 
gods,  for  they  only  organised  a  world  in  which  good 
and  evil  contended  with  what  seemed  equal  powers.  Of 
the  God  who  is  a  spirit,  independent  alike  of  matter  and 
of  evil,  they  had  no  conception.  Hence  the  great  God 
of  the  Greeks  is  not  free ;  he  is  himself  under  the  yoke 
of  a  mysterious  fatality  which  is  nothing  else  than  in- 
exorable natural  law.  Naturism  still  envelopes  humanism, 
like  the  Nessus-robe  of  Hercules,  the  god-like  hero  who 
still  remains  the  highest  personification  of  Hellenism. 
The  son  of  Zeus  is  only  freed  from  his  torture  on  the 
funeral  pyre,  and  so  will  it  be  also  with  the  religion  of 
the  Hellenes.  It  must  die  in  its  turn,  that  it  may  rise 
into  the  full  life  of  the  spirit ;  but  it  will  not  die  till  it  has 
sent  forth  a  new  and  brilliant  light  into  the  darkness  in 
which  pagan  humanity  is  groping  after  the  true  God. 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECE.^ 

§  I, — First  Period  of  Greek  Philosophy. 

THE  philosophy  of  a  people  is  tlie  highest  and  truest 
expression  of  its  genius.  Its  thinkers  evolve  from 
their  inner  consciousness,  the  fundamental  principles  of 
the  nation's  life,  apart  from  all  that  is  merely  accessory. 
Thus  the  Brahmans  of  India  in  their  subtle  metaphysics, 
brought  out  the  logical  results  of  the  premisses  contained 
in  the  national  faith,  and  arrived  at  the  doctrine  of  anni- 
hilation. The  Greek  philosophers  fulfilled  the  same 
mission.  They  gave  to  the  essential  principles  of 
Hellenic  paganism,  their  exact  formula. 

Greece  was  well  prepared  to  receive  a  philosophy  which 
was  not,  as  in  India,  the  mere  interpretation  of  an  official 
creed.  Owing  to  the  lay  character  of  her  priesthood, 
Greece  had  indeed  no  uniform  and  universally  acknow- 
ledged dogmatic  system.  The  idiosyncrasies  of  the  genius 
of  Greece,  her  facile  command  of  persuasive  speech,  the 
habit  of  reasoning  about  everything,  the  very  nature  of 
her  language  with  its  logical  instinct,  all  favoured  the 
development  of  philosophical  thought.  The  ascendancy 
of  humanism  also  gave  a  powerful  impetus  to  the  exer- 
cise   of  the  reason    as    the   distinctive    and   generalising 

'  Beside  the  wiitings  of  the  Greek  philosophers  themselves,  we  refer 
the  rei.der  to  H.  Riiler,  "  Hibtory  of  Ancient  Philosoph}-,"  translated  by 
A.  J.  W.  Morrison  ;  Riiler  and  Prclkr,  "  Hi:.toria  Philosophiae  Grecae 
ct  Ron.anae  ex  fontium  Iccis  contexta;"  E.  Zeller,  "Outlines  of  the 
History  of  Greek  Philosophy, "  translated  by  S.  F.  Alleyne  and  S. 
Abbott. 

See  also  E.  Havet,  ''Le  Christianisme  et  ses  origines,"  and  the 
monographs  of  French  philosophers  on  the  Greek  philosopheis 
mentioned. 


348     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

faculty  of  man.  The  influence  of  the  Orphic-Dionysiac 
mysteries,  tended  in  the  same  direction.  Lastly,  the 
aesthetic  tendency  which  is  one. of  the  most  characteristic 
features  of  the  Greeks,  gave  a  primary  application  to  this 
faculty  of  generalising  and  of  disengaging  the  idea  from 
the  contingent  fact;  for  the  beautiful,  being  inseparable 
from  the  ideal,  is  after  all,  only  the  type,  the  essential 
idea,  the  ultimate  end  of  things.  It  is  easy  to  understand 
then,  that  philosophy  was  an  autochthonous  production, 
so  to  speak,  of  the  Greek  genius,  and  not  a  mere  impor- 
tation from  without,  although  it  is  indisputable  that  in 
this  domain,  no  less  than  in  that  of  religion,  the  influence 
of  the  metaphysics  of  the  East  made  itself  felt  through 
frequent  contact.^ 

The  philosophy  of  Greece  did  inestimable  service  in 
preparing  the  way  for  Christianity.  In  the  first  place, 
the  persistent  search  after  truth  was  in  itself  a  grand 
and  noble  thing.  This  unquenchable  desire  of  the  soul 
of  man  to  rise  to  its  source,  goes  far  to  prove  that  that 
source  is  Divine.  Greek  philosophy  did  much  to  purify 
the  idea  of  the  deity,  though  the  purification  was  never 
complete.  The  philosopher  seemed  indeed  from  time  to 
time  to  climb  the  mount  of  spiritual  vision,  but  he  always 
fell  back  again  under  the  influence  of  Oriental  dualism. 
Nevertheless,  such  men  as  Socrates  and  Plato,  fulfilled  a 
truly  sublime  mission  in  their  day  and  nation.  They  were 
the  great  prophets  of  the  human  conscience  in  the  pagan 
world.  That  world  awoke  at  their  call,  and  this  quicken- 
ing of  the  moral  sense  was  at  once  the  glory  and  the 
death  of  philosophy  under  its  systematic  form  ;  for  con- 
science, once  roused  from  its  torpor,  failed  to  find  its 
full  satisfaction  in  philosophy.  It  was  soon  constrained 
to  abandon  systems  which  were  powerless  to  realise  the 
moral  ideal  they  had  evoked.  But  to  perish  thus,  and  in 
such  a  cause,  was  high  honour  for  any  philosophy,  and 
indeed  it  was  only  the  system  that  ceased  to  be  ;  all  that 
was  essentially  true  in  it  lived  on,  as  the  soul  outlives  the 
body  when  it  returns  to  its  dust.     Thus  the  philosophy 


'  See  Zeller,    "  Outline  of  the  History  of  Greek  Philosophy,"  pp.   l8, 
ti  seq. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECE.  349 


of  Greece,  was,  like  the  Jewish  law,  though  in  an  inferior 
sense,  a  schoolmaster  to  bring  to  Christ,  as  said  Clement 
of  Alexandria.  It  also  had  the  shadow  of  good  things  to 
come.  It  awakened  the  desire  after  them,  though  it  had 
them  not  to  bestow. 

There  is  obviously  a  close  connection  between  the 
various  philosophical  systems.  Logic  reigns  supreme  in 
this  domain  of  pure  speculation,  and  herein  lies  both  its 
strength  and  its  weakness.  Each  system  dies  through 
that  which  is  false  and  incomplete  in  it,  and  the  doctrine 
which  succeeds  is  the  natural  refutation  of  these  errors, 
and  either  draws  the  true  conclusions  from  the  premisses 
already  laid  down,  or  puts  a  new  principle  in  the  place  of 
one  that  is  false.  The  great  problem  of  ancient  philo- 
sophy was  how  to  get  rid  of  the  antinomy  between  mind 
and  matter,  for  it  has  always  been  the  province  of  specu- 
lation to  bring  into  unity  the  conceptions  of  the  mind  of 
man.  This  then  was  the  great  crux  of  Greek  philosophy, 
— the  problem  it  never  succeeded  in  solving.  For  its 
solution  a  higher  light  was  needed.  So  long  as  the  mind 
of  man  did  not  grasp  the  idea  of  a  personal  God,  distinct 
from  the  world  of  creation,  there  were  only  three  solutions 
open  to  explain  the  origin  of  things.  Either  the  two 
terms  of  the  problem  must  be  placed  in  direct  antagonism, 
the  result  being  uncompromising  dualism ;  or  one  of  the 
terms  must  be  suppressed,  the  result  being  either 
materialism  or  idealism  ;  or  lastly,  resort  must  be  had 
to  the  theory  of  emanation. 

If  all  the  philosophical  systems  made  shipwreck  on  the 
same  rock,  they  did  not  all  do  so  in  the  same  manner,  and 
some  among  them,  while  in  error  on  this  capital  point, 
yet  blended  such  sublime  truth  with  their  errors,  that  in 
spite  of  them  they  exercised  a  highly  beneficial  influence. 
As  we  are  concerned  chiefly  with  the  moral  tendency 
of  the  various  doctrines,  and  are  persuaded  that  this  does 
not  depend  entirely  upon  their  metaphysical  aspect,  we 
shall  be  careful  not  to  pronounce  a  summary  condemnation 
on  the  whole  philosophy  of  Greece.  We  shall  gladly 
trace  the  purer  current  which  flows  through  its  often 
turbid  waters,  and  becomes  a  living  and  lucid  stream 
in  the  Platonic  school.     Platonism  is  indeed  the  system 


350    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

most  closely  allied  to  Christianity,  and  did  most  to 
prepare  men  for  its  reception,  except  indeed  those  who 
were  too  easily  satisfied  with  Platonism  itself.  It  had 
also  a  considerable  influence  over  the  early  development 
of  Christian  theology.  We  shall  therefore  speak  of  it 
separately  in  this  rapid  review  of  Greek  philosophy. 

We  find  in  that  philosophy,  under  a  new  form,  the 
successive  mythological  creations  of  humanity.  This  is 
perfectly  natural,  for  there  is  nothing  arbitrary  or 
accidental  in  the  sequence  of  the  religions  of  the  ancient 
world.  We  have  seen  how  they  are  all  linked  together 
by  a  chain  of  hidden  but  irresistible  dialectics.  Mankind 
is  free  not  to  engage  in  this  or  that  course,  but  having 
once  started  in  a  certain  intellectual  direction,  it  is  bound 
to  pursue  it  to  the  end,  unless  some  violent  crisis  inter- 
venes. In  the  East  naturism  logically  led  to  a  dualism 
which  became  more  and  more  marked,  as  dualism  itself 
led  to  the  pantheism  of  the  Brahmans  and  the  nihilism  of 
the  Buddhists.  We  have  seen  how  the  religion  of  Greece 
rose  by  degrees  to  its  purer  intuitions.  Philosophic 
thought  passed  through  an  exactly  similar  evolution  ;  only 
as  reflection  follows  imagination  and  never  precedes  it, 
the  philosophical  development  did  not  run  parallel  with 
the  mythological.  The  periods  of  Greek  philosophy  do 
not  coincide  exactly  with  those  of  the  history  of  religion. 
Thus  naturism  was  already  banished  from  the  religious 
sphere,  while  it  still  held  its  place  in  the  speculative,  and 
humanism  was  not  clearly  formulated  in  the  schools  till 
long  after  it  had  been  enthroned  in  the  temples. 

In  its  first  period  Greek  philosophy  is  purely  naturalistic, 
for  it  places  the  first  principle  of  things  in  nature,  or 
identifies  it  with  one  of  the  natural  elements,  or  forces. 
In  the  second  period  it  is  different.  Then  philosophy, 
rising  above  nature,  requires  from  the  mind  of  man  a 
comprehensive  concept  which  shall  explain  the  universe. 
It  thus  emphatically  sets  its  seal  on  humanism,  since  it  is 
in  the  reason  of  man  that  philosophy  finds  the  key  to  the 
great  enigma  of  being,  of  which  man  becomes  the  normal 
type.  Man — the  thinking  reed — was  thus  triumphantly 
raised  above  nature,  though  a  breath  would  lay  him  low 
in  the  dust.     The  superiority  of  mind  over  matter  was 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECE.  351 

vindicated  and  yet,  as  we  have  repeatedly  said,  it  was 
but  a  partial  victory,  for  dualism  still  survived. 

It  was  in  Ionia,  at  the  time  when  Solon  was  founding  the 
Athenian  democracy,  that  philosophy  properly  so  called, 
made  its  first  appearance  in  Hellenic  civilisation  with  Thales 
the  Milesian.'^  We  can  only  slightly  indicate  the  stages  of 
this  first  evolution,  which  corresponds  in  the  domain  of 
philosophy  to  Oriental  naturism  under  its  first  form  in 
Chaldea.  Thales  declared  water  to  be  the  matter  from 
which  all  things  arose  and  of  which  they  consist.^  He 
explains  their  evolution  by  the  solidification  of  the  humid 
element.  Anaximander  conceived  the  primitive  substance 
to  be  air,  the  inspiration  and  expiration  of  which  produced 
life  in  its  various  phases.  Heracleitus  likened  it  to  fire, 
perpetually  in  motion.  We  must  not  suppose  because 
Anaximander  calls  this  first  principle,  "  the  unlimited," 
that  he  rises  above  naturism,  for  he  is  referring  only 
to  "  the  infinite  mass  of  matter,"  out  of  which  all  things 
arise  and  by  disintegration  form  the  world. ^  Diogenes 
of  Apollonia  certainly  tried  to  raise  the  Ionian  school  to  a 
higher  stage  by  recognising  that  the  first  principle  must 
be  endued  with  a  "  rational  essence,"  but  he  did  not  really 
distinguish  this  "  rational  essence "  from  the  air.  "  All 
things  are  merely  transformations  of  air.  Their  trans- 
formation consists  in  rarefaction  and  condensation,  or 
which  is  the  same,  in  heating  and  cooling."* 

It  must  be  admitted  that  Anaxagoras  of  Clazomenae 
got  at  least  a  glimpse  of  a  higher  explanation  of  the 
world  than  mere  naturism.  He  indeed  ascribes  to  mind 
{yov'i)  the  power  of  organising  the  world.  He  does  not 
however  distinguish  with  sufficiently  clearness  the  vov^ 
from  the  world  ;  he  does  not  make  it  a  personal  and 
spiritual  agent,  so  that  in  the  end  it  becomes  confounded 
with  the  powers  of  nature.     Its  action  consists  merely  in 

'  Zeller  peremptorily  rejects  the  division  of  the  Ionian  School  into  two 
branches,  adopted  by  Ritter :  1st,  The  d3'iiamic  branch,  which  evolves 
things  from  the  forces  of  nature  ;  2nd,  The  mechanical  branch,  which 
admits  action  from  without,  and  consequently  the  possibility  of  an  extra 
or  super  natural  element. 

*  Zeller,  "Outlines  of  Greek  Philosophy,"  p.  38 
3  Ibid.,  p.  39. 

*  Ibid.,  p.  44. 


352     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

the  combination  of  substances  already  existing" ;  this  is 
the  genesis  ;  their  separation  is  decay.^  In  this  recog- 
nition of  the  action  of  mind,  however,  there  is  undoubtedly 
an  intuition,  a  presentiment  of  humanism  ;  for  from  whence 
did  Anaxagoras  derive  this  notion  of  mind  except  from 
man,  whom  he  regarded  as  the  type  of  spiritual  being  ? 
Incomplete  as  is  the  spiritualism  of  Anaxagoras,  it  entitles 
him  to  the  magnificent  homage  paid  to  him  by  Aristotle, 
when  he  says  that  with  hmi  philosophy  seems  to  awaken 
from  a  long  delirium,  by  which  he  means  no  doubt 
that  it  broke  through  the  spell  of  naturism.  Thanks  to 
Anaxagoras,  the  duality  of  nature  and  mind  is  to  a  certain 
extent  formulated,  and  the  contradiction  between  these 
two  essential  elements  of  things  becomes  an  acknov/ledged 
premiss.  From  monistic  naturalism,  we  pass  on  to 
dualism.  This  took  shape  in  the  Greek  mind  under  the 
influence  of  Pythagoras,  who  seems  to  play  in  philosophy, 
the  part  of  Orpheus  in  the  Mysteries.  The  famous  theory 
of  numbers  bears  the  evident  impress  of  dualism.  In  fact, 
the  primitive  number  from  which  all  things  are  evolved, 
comprehends  at  once  the  material  principle  which  is  "  the 
unlimitable  and  formless,"  and  the  spiritual  principle  which 
is  the  element  of  limitation  and  determination.  Number, 
which  is  at  once  the  essence  and  the  type  of  all  beings, 
results  from  the  reciprocal  action  of  these  two  elements. 
It  is  not  simply  the  unlimited,  nor  simply  the  determining 
element ;  it  is  "  that  which  makes  the  hidden  cognisable, 
rules  Divine  things  (the  cosmos)  and  the  works  of  men."  ^ 
The  laws  of  S3'mmetry  are  strictly  observed  in  this  inter- 
pretation of  matter  and  spirit ;  mathematical  relations 
express  the  union  of  the  spiritual  and  the  material.  The 
limited  and  unlimited,  mind  and  matter,  being  both  con- 
tained at  first  indistinctly  in  the  great  whole,  are  in  the 
end  eliminated  from  it  to  unite  and  form  a  harmonic 
number,  of  which  heaven  is  the  most  perfect  representation, 
while  man  reproduces  it  upon  earth.  The  Pythagorean 
school  was  a  school  of  mathematicians  and  astronomers. 
It  seems  to  correspond  ver}'  closely  in  the  history  of 
philosophy  with  the  Zoroastrian  school  in  Iran.     In  fact, 


'  Zeller,  "Outlines  of  Greek  Philosophy,"  p.  84.  *  Ibid.,  p.  50. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECE.  353 

while  the  Ionian  school  (resembling  in  this  the  early 
religions  of  the  East)  recognised  only  one  blind  and 
contused  principle,  including  in  itself  all  paradoxes,  the 
Pythagorean  school — like  the  Avesta — acknowledged  two 
distinct  principles.  By  placing  them  in  opposition  it 
exerted,  like  the  Persian  school,  a  moral  influence,  for  it 
enjoined  man'  to  give  the  ascendancy  everywhere  to  the 
good,  that  is  to  harmony  ;  but  like  the  Persian  school,  also, 
it  remained  hopelessly  entangled  in  the  web  of  dualism. 
"  Unity,"  says  the  Pythagorean  school,  "  comes  from 
duality."^  It  is  the  agreement  of  the  discordant.  The 
Pythagoreans  differed  from  the  Parsees  however  in  this 
respect,  that  they  identified  the  evil  element  with  the 
physical  life,  and  therefore  cultivated  an  asceticism 
altogether  foreign  to  the  religion  of  Zoroaster. 

We  have  seen  that  dualism,  pushed  to  its  extreme 
consequences,  leads  to  nihilism.  The  human  mind  is 
incapable  of  long  maintaining  the  equilibrium  between  the 
material  and  the  spiritual  principle.  It  soon  tries  to 
abolish  one  term  or  other  of  the  great  antithesis.  As 
soon  as  the  idea  of  unity  is  once  grasped,  the  mind  is 
ready  to  sacrifice  everything  to  it.  Diversity,  movement, 
all  forms  of  particular  life,  assume  the  appearance  of  an 
evil.  This  petty  existence  must  be  merged  in  the  abyss 
of  absolute  and  undivided  existence.  This  tendency 
becomes  Brahmanism  in  the  mythological  development  of 
the  East.  In  the  philosophical  evolution  of  Greece,  it 
produces  the  Elean  school.  We  know  how  daringly 
Xenophanes  and  Parmenides  formulated  the  most  extreme 
idealism.  Parmenides  says  :  "  Only  being  is  ;  non-being 
is  not  and  cannot  be  thought.  .  .  .  Being  cannot  begin 
or  cease  to  be,  for  it  can  neither  come  from  non-being  nor 
become  non-being  ;  it  never  was  and  never  will  be,  but  is 
undividedly  present.  It  is  indivisible,  for  it  is  that  which 
is  everywhere  equally,  and  there  is  nothing  by  which 
it  could  be  divided.  It  is  unmoved,  complete  in  itself, 
everywhere  self-identical,  and  ma}^  be  compared  with  a 
well-rounded  sphere,  spreading  itself  equally  from  the 
centre  to  all  sides.     Thought,  moreover,  is    not  distinct 

'  To  S"  tv  ft  iacpoTipav  (Arist.  Metaph.  A.,  I.), 

23 


354    IliE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

from  being,  for  it  is  thought  of  the  existent.  Only  that 
knowledge  therefore  has  truth,  which  shows  us  in  all 
things  this  one  invariable  being,  and  this  is  reason 
(\0709).  The  senses  on  the  other  hand,  which  show  us 
a  multiplicity  of  things,  origin,  decay  and  change,  are  the 
sources  of  all  error."  ^ 

In  an  admirable  passage  in  which  Parmenides  protests 
against  the  human  form  of  the  gods,  and  the  unworthy 
stories  about  them  related  by  Homer  and  Hesiod,  he  says 
of  the  one  God,  "  He  is  neither  comparable  to  mortals 
in  shape,  nor  in  thought,"  "all  eye,  all  ear,  all  thought," 
"  who  without  trouble,  by  his  thought,  governs  all  things."^ 
A  plurality  of  gods  is  incompatible  with  this  purer  con- 
ception of  deity.  Eut  high  as  Parmenides  thus  placed 
his  God,  he  yet  did  not.  think  of  him  as  possessing  any 
true  personality  distinct  from  the  universe.  He  had  no 
conception  of  a  God  who  is  a  spirit. 

The  God  of  Parmenides  is  not  the  God  of  life.  He 
rather  resembles  a  lifeless  all-engulfing  Brahma.  Hence 
this  philosophy  tends  rather  to  the  annihilation  of  true 
being. 

The  Elean  school  directly  taught  annihilation  ;  and  the 
same  conclusion  was  reached  by  another  school,  which 
seemed  to  start  from  a  diametrically  opposite  point  of 
view.  Zeller  shows  how  the  Eleatics  in  "maintaining  the 
unity  and  eternity  of  God  and  the  universe,"  set  aside  all 
idea  of  any  change  to  be  wrought  by  the  action  of  an 
inherent  force.  Heracleitus  and  the  whole  Atomistic 
school  accepted  this  "  impossibility  of  an  absolute  genesis 
or  decay,  but  would  not  deny  the  plurality  of  things, 
motion,  nor  genesis  and  decay  {i.e.  of  composite  things)."^ 
"Being,"  they  said,  "is  that  which  fills  space, — the 
Plenum  ;  non-being  is  the  Void."  As  they  were  not  pre- 
pared to  accept  the  r-ultiplication  of  things  as  the  result 
of  an  ulterior  process,  they  were  constrained  to  trace  it 
back  to  the  Plenum  itself.  This  they  conceived  to  be 
divided  into  innumerable  atoms,  which  on  account  of  their 
minuteness  are  not  perceptible  separately.  They  are 
separated  from  one  another  by  the  Void,  but  must  them- 

'  Zeller,  "Outlines  of  Greek  Philosophy  "  p.  61.         *  Ibid.,  p.  59. 
«  Ibid.,  p.  77. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECE.  355 


selves  be  indivisible,  because  they  completely  fill  their 
space,  and  have  no  vacuum  in  them  ;  for  this  reason  they 
are  called  atoms  (aro/Lia)."^  All  derivation  or  genesis 
of  the  composite  consists  in  the  coming  together  of 
separate  atoms  ;  and  all  decay  in  the  separation  of  com- 
bined atoms  ;  and  similarly  with  all  kinds  of  change.  All 
opeiation  of  things  on  each  other  is  a  mechanical  operation, 
through  pressure  and  impact.  Thus  we  have  the  infinite 
mAiltiplication  of  atoms  produced  by  a  mere  mechanical 
movement.  In  reality,  the  Atomistic  school  tended  to 
nihilism  no  less  than  the  Eleatic,  for  real  life  is  as  incom- 
patible with  a  perpetual  state  of  transition,  without  any 
persistence,  as  with  total  immobility — the  hypothesis  of 
the  other  school. 

Heracleitus  declares  "that  for  the  philosopher  in  search 
not  of  theories  but  of  the  true,  all  things  are  in  constant 
flux  ;  nothing  has  permanence."  ^  He  makes  fire  the 
primitive  element,  as  being  "  the  substance  which  least 
of  all  has  a  permanent  consistency,  or  allows  it  in  another. 
Things  arise  from  fire  through  its  transmutation  into  other 
substances,  and  in  the  same  way  they  return  to  it  again."' 
Thus  the  history  of  the  world  is  to  move  in  endless 
alternation  between  the  state  of  divided  being  and  that 
of  the  union  of  all  things  in  the  primitive  fire.  Everything 
is  produced  by  contradiction.*  Everything  is  born  of 
discord.^  If  Heracleitus  gives  the  name  of  Zeus  to  the 
acting  force  which  impels  to  this  eternal  transmutation, 
it  is  a  mere  form  of  speech.  As  the  world  arose  from  the 
primitive  fire,  so  it  will  return  to  primitive  fire  again  by 
means  of  conflagration,  in  order  to  be  again  reconstituted 
from  the  same  substance  after  a  fixed  time.  "  The  soul 
of  man  is  a  part  of  this  divine  fire.  The  purer  the  fire 
the  more  perfect  is  the  soul."  ®  As  this  divine  fire  is 
imprisoned  in  the  body,  Heracleitus  taught  that  our  life 
is  the  death  of  the  gods,  and  our  death  their  life.^ 

'  Zeller,  "  Outlines  of  Greek  Philosophy,"  p.  7^- 

'  Ibid.,  p.  67. 

^  Ibid.,  pp.  68,  69. 

*  Diog.  Laertes.,  ix.  7. 

'  iroXenos  TrdvTwv -rraT.rip,  Hippolytus.     "  Philosoph.,"  ix.  9. 

•  Zeller,  p.  70. 

•■  Hippolj-tus,  "  FhLlosopli.,"  ix.  10. 


356    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

Empedocles  eloquently  set  forth  the  pessimism  which 
resulted  from  this  nihilist  doctrine  of  the  Eleatics  and 
of  the  Atomistic  school.  He  recognised  four  primitive 
elements,  or  as  he  called  them,  "  the  roots  of  all."  These 
are  brought  together  or  divided  by  a  combining  and  a 
separating  force,  representing  Love  or  Harmony,  and  Hate. 
Everything  that  exists,  including  man,  is  produced  from 
elemental  discord.  "  O  unhappy  race  of  mortals,"  he 
exclaims,  "  of  what  convulsions  and  throes  are  ye  born  ! " 
This  despairing  tone  is  always  the  final  utterance  of 
naturism,  as  we  have  seen  in  the  history  of  Buddhism. 

Pessimism  is  not,  however,  its  only  issue;  it  may  lead 
also  to  complete  scepticism.  This  was  one  of  its  saddest 
results  in  Greece.  Atomism  was  its  worthy  parent.  We 
have  shown  that  it  regarded  universal  life  as  simply  the 
combination  of  atoms  in  the  Void,  that  is  to  say  in  space, 
all  exerting  a  reciprocal  action  according  to  their  nature 
and  weight.  Man  is  therefore  nothing  more  than  a 
fortuitous  concourse  of  atoms  from  the  terrestrial  slime 
with  the  soul  for  a  motive  power.  "The  soul  itself  is 
something  corporeal ;  it  consists  of  fine  smooth  and  round 
atoms,  and  therefore  of  fire  which  is  distributed  through 
the  whole  body,  and  by  the  process  of  inhalation  is 
hindered  from  escaping,  and  is  also  replenished  from  the 
outer  air ;  but  the  particular  activities  of  the  soul  have 
their  seat  in  particular  organs."  ^  Thus  the  higher  world 
of  spirit  is  entirely  ignored.  There  is  no  more  any  first 
principle,  no  gods,  no  morality.  All  certainty  vanishes. 
The  Sophists  arrived  at  this  conclusion  both  from  a 
metaphysical  and  a  moral  point  of  view,  introducing  into 
their  arguments  the  fatal  subtlety  of  Buddhist  speculation. 
How  characteristic  in  this  respect  is  this  argument,  which 
Gorgias  states  with  considerable  acuteness  :  (f)  "That 
nothing  could  exist ;  (2)  that  what  did  exist  could  not  be 
known  to  us ;  (3)  that  that  which  was  known  could  not 
be  imparted  to  another."  ^  In  the  same  school  we  meet 
with  the  assertion  that  "no  predicate  can  be  given  to  a 
subject,  because  one  thing  cannot  be  many."  ^  Again,  for 
every  person  that  is  true  and  real  which  appears  so  to  him, 

*  Zeller,  "Outlines  of  Greek  Philosophy,"  p.  80.         *  Ibid.,  p.  93. 

3  Ibid. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECE.  357 

and  for  this  reason  there  is  only  a  subjective  and  relative, 
not  an  objective  and  universal  truth. ^ 

From  a  moral  standpoint,  the  Sophists  denied  that  there 
was  any  rule,  saying  that  man  is  the  measure  of  things,^ 
and  that  moreover  on  all  questions,  two  equally  plausible 
replies  are  possible.  It  is  easy  to  see  how  pernicious 
such  an  influence  would  be.  It  was  the  deathblow  to 
philosophy,  which  is  but  child's  play  if  it  is  not  inspired 
by  the  love  of  truth,  and  to  love  truth  it  must  be  believed 
in.  In  making  man  the  measure  of  all  things,  after 
depriving  him  of  any  moral  and  rational  criterion,  the 
Sophists  substituted  a  false  humanism  for  the  true.  As 
philosophy  under  these  conditions  was  only  a  jeu  d' esprit , 
so  eloquence  was  mere  empty  rhetoric.  Attaching  im- 
portance rather  to  the  technicalities  of  language  and 
exposition,  than  to  the  logical  or  actual  correctness  of  the 
discussion,  the  Sophists  became  for  the  most  part  mere 
teachers  of  elocution,  who  composed  introductions  to  the 
art,  and  pronounced  and  wrote  pattern  speeches,  which 
they  caused  their  pupils  to  learn  by  heart. ^  The  only  real 
service  they  did  was  the  cultivation  of  the  art  of  oratory, 
and  the  perfecting  of  the  dialectic  instrument,  which  in 
worthier  hands  was  to  do  good  service  to  the  cause 
of  sound  philosophy.  They  also  awakened  an  interest  in 
ps3'chology  by  turning  the  minds  of  men  in  upon  them- 
selves. It  was  imperative,  however,  that  the  youth  of 
Athens  should  be  withdrawn  from  an  influence  as  stulti- 
fying to  the  intellect  as  corrupting  to  the  heart.  To  do 
this  was  the  immortal  work  of  Socrates.* 

§   II. — Second    Period   of   Greek    Philosophy. 

If  sophistry  was  the  degradation  of  Greek  humanism, 
the  school  of  Socrates  and  his  illustrious  successors,  Plato 
and  Aristotle,  was  its  glorious  vindication.  The  new 
form  of  the  scientific  life  founded  by  Socrates,  consisted 

'  Zeller,  "  Outlines  of  Greek  Philosophy,"  p.  93. 

*  ■KO.VTIOV    ■Xpr)fldT(i}lf    flETpOV    dudptilTTOS. 

*  See  Zeller,  pp.  97,  98. 

*  See  the  whole  chapter  on  the  Sophists  in  Zeller's  "Outlines  of  Greek 
Philosophy."  We  are  surprised  at  the  favourable  way  in  which  Grote 
speaks  of  the  Sophists. 


358     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 


in  "demanding  Icnowledge  through  concepts,  in  introducing 
men  to  the  formation  of  concepts  by  dialectic,  and  in 
applying  the  process  to  ethical  and  kindred  religious 
questions."  ^ 

In  this  philosophical  development,  we  shall  observe 
three  successive  stages.  Socrates  introduces  us  to  general 
concepts,  which  explain  the  existence  of  things  by  that 
which  is  permanent  and  common  to  all,  in  distinction  from 
the  changing  and  accidental.  Plato  carried  on  the  work 
of  his  master  with  a  deeper  and  more  comprehensive 
intelligence. 

Aristotle  supplemented  Platonism  by  the  most  vigorous 
researches  into  nature. 

As  we  are  not  writing  a  history  of  philosophy,  we  can 
but  characterise  these  three  great  doctrines,  all  belonging 
really  to  the  same  school.  In  fact,  there  is  properly 
speaking,  no  Socratic  system.  Plato  and  Aristotle  alone 
give  us  a  well  arranged  metaphysical  system,  but  Socrates 
was  no  less  their  master.  It  was  he  who,  as  Cicero  said, 
brought  philosophy  down  from  heaven  to  earth,  that  is 
to  say,  wrested  it  from  a  purely  objective  naturism,  and 
established  it  on  the  domain  of  psychological  facts,  thus 
placing  it  on  its  true  basis.^ 

As  no  one  ever  more  truly  lived  what  he  taught  than 
Socrates,  it  is  as  important  for  us  to  know  his  personal 
history  as  his  doctrine,  in  order  to  understand  the 
marvellous  influence  he  exerted.  The  memory  he  left 
with  his  disciples,  the  affection  mingled  with  respect  which 
they  ever  cherished  for  his  name,  are  sufficient  evidence 
of  his  elevation  of  character  and  moral  piety.  He  was 
indeed  a  Greek  of  Athens,  and  as  such  too  much  enthralled 
by  pagan  customs.  But  his  life  was  none  the  less  a  noble 
life,  and  its  beauty  can  only  be  tarnished  by  the  aspersions 
of  calumny,  such  as  those  cast  upon  him  by  Lucian,  and 
unhappily  b}'  too  many  clumsy  defenders  of  Christianity 
in  later  days,  who  seem  to  imagine  that  the  Gospel  is 
magnified  by  vilifying  human  nature. 

'  See  Zeller  on  Socrates.  "  Outlines  of  Greek  Philosophy,"  p.  99, 
et  seq. 

'^  Apart  from  the  great  works  of  Socrates'  contemporaries,  see  M. 
Fouillee's  work,  "La  Philosophic  do  Socrate." 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECE.  359 


Born  in  humble  life,  and  without  any  of  those  outward 
advantages  which  Greece  was  wont  to  prize  so  highly, 
Socrates  showed  himself  a  true  ruler  of  men,  and  his 
power  was  all  the  more  real  for  being  so  unostentatious. 
No  one  had  a  greater  repugnance  than  he  to  the  vulgar 
methods  of  producing  an  effect,  such  as  pomp  of  circum- 
stance and  stilted  speech.  He  gave  his  lessons  in  morals 
and  philosophy  in  the  free  intercourse  of  friendship.  He 
never  spoke  with  authority.  He  preferred  the  tone  of 
lively  conversation,  the  playful  bent  of  which  he  was  ever 
ready  to  direct  to  the  end  he  had  in  view.  Without 
founding  any  school  properly  so  called,  he  was  ready  at 
all  times  and  in  all  places  to  teach— in  the  public  square, 
the  shop,  the  banqueting  hall,  or  the  prison. 

The  secret  of  his  power  was  threefold — his  affection  for 
his  disciples,  his  entire  dev<  t  on  to  truth,  and  the  agree- 
ment of  his  life  with  his  doctrine.  Xenophon  says: 
"  He  expressed  wonder  thi  t  any  one  who  professed  to 
teach  virtue  should  demand  money,  and  not  think  that  he 
gained  the  greatest  profit  in  securing  a  good  friend,  but 
fear  that  he  whom  he  had  made  an  honourable  and  worthy 
character,  would  not  retain  the  greatest  gratitude  towards 
his  greatest  benefactor."  ^  Socrates,  indeed,  never  ex- 
pressed so  much  to  any  one  ;  yet  he  believed  that  those  of 
his  associates  who  imbibed  what  he  approved,  would  be 
always  good  friends,  both  to  himself  and  to  each  other. 
In  another  passage,  comparing  wisdom  to  a  fair  virgin,  he 
says  :  "  Those  who  sell  their  wisdom  for  money,  to  any 
that  will  buy,  men  call  Sophists,  or,  as  it  were,  prostituters 
of  wisdom  ;  but  whoever  makes  a  friend  of  a  person  whom 
he  knows  to  be  deserving,  by  teaching  him  all  the  good 
that  he  knows,  we  consider  him  to  act  the  part  which 
becomes  an  honourable  and  good  citizen."  ^ 

Again  :  "  Socrates  would  often  say  that  he  loved  some 
particular  person  ;  but  he  was  evidently  enamoured  not 
of  those  formed  by  nature  to  be  beautiful,  but  of  tliose 
naturally  inclined  to  virtue."  ^    He  esteemed  true  friendship 


'  Xenophon,  "  Memorab.,"  Book  I.  c.  ii.  §  7,  8. 
*  Ibid.,  Book  I.  c.  vi.  §  13. 
3  Ibid.,  Book  IV.  c.  1.  §  2. 


56o    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

above  every  earthly  good  ;  and  it  is  easy  to  understand 
how  warmly  his  disciples  responded  to  his  affection,  and 
enjoyed  his  society.  They  respected  as  much  as  they 
loved  him,  for  it  might  truly  be  said  of  him,  that  "  first 
he  wrought  and  afterwards  he  taught."  If  he  enjoined 
temperance  and  sobriety,  he  was  himself  a  pattern  of  these 
virtues.  Poorly  clad,  content  with  little,  he  despised  all 
the  luxuries  of  life.  His  courage  never  failed  him.  He 
was  intrepid  on  the  battle  field,  and  still  more  intrepid 
in  his  office  as  magistrate,  stedfastly  resisting  the  capri- 
cious will  of  the  people,  when  they  clamoured  for  the  un- 
just impeachment  of  ten  generals.  He  was  equally  daring 
in  breaking  through  the  iniquitous  injunctions  of  the 
thirty  tyrants  of  Athens.  The  railleries  of  Aristophanes, 
who  dragged  his  name  into  public  ridicule,  neither  troubled 
nor  angered  him.  He  displayed  the  same  indomitable 
firmness  when  he  was  betrayed  before  his  judges  and 
falsely  accused  of  impiety.  In  his  Apology  he  saj's  : 
"  If  you  say  to  me :  '  Socrates,  this  time  we  will  let  you 
off,  but  upon  one  condition,  that  you  are  not  to  enquire 
and  speculate  in  this  way  any  more,  and  if  you  are 
caught  doing  this  again,  you  shall  die  ; '  if  this  was  the 
condition  on  which  you  let  me  go,  I  should  reply  :  '  Men 
of  Athens,  I  honour  and  love  you,  but  I  shall  obey  God 
rather  than  you,  and  while  I  have  life  and  strength,  I 
shall  never  cease  from  the  practice  and  teaching  of 
philosophy.  ...  I  would  rather  die  having  spoken 
after  my  manner,  than  speak  after  your  manner  and  live.' 
For  neither  in  war  nor  yet  at  law  ought  I  or  any  man 
to  use  every  way  of  escaping  death.  Often  in  battle  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  if  a  man  will  throw  away  his  arms 
and  fall  on  his  knees  before  his  pursuers,  he  may  escape 
death  ;  and  in  other  dangers  there  are  other  ways  of 
escaping  death,  if  a  man  is  willing  to  say  or  do  anything. 
The  difficulty,  my  friends,  is  not  in  avoiding  death,  but 
in  avoiding  unrighteousness,  for  that  runs  faster  than 
death.  1  am  old  and  move  slov/ly,  and  the  slower  runner 
has  overtaken  me,  and  my  accusers  are  keen  and  quick, 
and  the  faster  runner,  who  is  unrighteousness,  has  over- 
taken them.  And  now '  I  depart  hence,  condemned  by 
you  to  suffer  the  penalty  of  death,  and  they  too  go  their 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECE.  361 

ways,  condemned  by  the  truth  to  suffer  the  penalty  of 
villainy  and  wrong  ;  and  I  must  abide  by  my  award — let 
them  abide  by  theirs.  I  suppose  that  these  things  may 
be  regarded  as  fatal,  and  I  think  that  they  are  well."  ^ 

The  same  faithfulness  to  duty  led  Socrates  to  refuse  to 
escape  from  prison  that  "  the  decisions  of  the  law  might 
not  be  set  aside  or  overthrown,"  for  if  "  a  man  may  do  no 
violence  to  his  father  and  mother,  much  less  may  he  do 
violence  to  his  country.  If  he  is  punished  by  her  with 
imprisonment  or  stripes  the  punishment  is  to  be  endured 
in  silence.  .  .  .  Leave  me  then  to  follow  whithersoever 
God  leads." 

These  words  show  the  truly  religious  spirit  of  Socrates, 
that  faith  in  the  Deity  which  made  him  say  that  "God 
had  given  him  to  the  Athenians,"  and  that  a  god  or 
goddess  guided  him  in  all  things.  There  was  no  doubt 
superstition  blended  with  truth  in  this  belief,  but  who 
can  doubt  that  there  was  something  truly  of  God  in  such 
a  life  crowned  by  such  a  death  ? 

The  influence  of  Socrates  on  his  disciples  has  been 
enthusiastically  described  by  one  of  the  most  brilliant  if 
not  the  most  faithful  of  them.  He  says :  "  My  heart 
leaps  within  me  more  than  that  of  any  Corybantian 
reveller,  and  my  eyes  rain  tears  when  I  hear  him.  And 
I  observe  that  many  others  are  affected  in  the  same  way. 
I  have  heard  Pericles  and  other  great  orators,  but  though 
I  thought  that  they  spoke  well,  I  never  had  any  similar 
feeling ;  my  soul  was  not  stirred  by  them  nor  was  I  angry 
at  the  thought  of  my  own  slavish  state.  But  Socrates 
has  of:en  brought  me  to  such  a  pass,  that  I  have  felt  as 
if  I  could  hardly  endure  this  life  which  I  am  leading,  and 
I  am  conscious  that  if  I  did  not  shut  my  ears  against  him 
and  fly  from  the  voice  of  the  siren,  he  would  retain  me 
until  I  grew  old,  sitting  at  his  feet.  For  he  makes  me 
confess  that  I  ought  not  to  live  as  I  do,  neglecting  the 
wants  of  my  own  soul,  and  busying  myself  with  the 
concerns  of  the  Athenians ;  therefore  I  hold  my  ears 
and  tear  myself  away  from  him.  And  he  is  the  only 
person   who  ever  made  me  ashamed,   which  you   might 

'Dialogues  of  Plato.      "Apology,"  29D,  383 — 39B. 


362     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

think  not  to  be  in  my  nature,  and  there  is  no  one  else 
who  does  the  same.  For  I  know  that  1  cannot  answer 
him  or  say  that  I  ought  not  to  do  as  he  bids,  but  when  I 
leave  his  presence,  the  love  of  popularity  gets  the  better 
of  me.  And  therefore  1  run  away  and  fly  from  him,  and 
when  I  see  him  I  am  ashamed  of  what  I  have  confessed 
to  him.  Many  a  time  have  I  wished  that  he  were  dead, 
and  yet  I  know  that  I  should  be  more  sorry  than  glad  if 
he  were  to  die;  so  that  I  am  at  my  wits'  end.''^ 

If  we  turn  to  Socrates'  own  teaching  we  shall  fail  to 
apprehend  either  its  form  or  substance,  unless  we  realise 
the  historic  environment  of  the  teacher.  It  is  throughout 
a  powerful  protest  against  the  dangerous  sophistry  which 
saps  the  basis  of  certainty  both  in  mind  and  morals. 
Socrates  took  up  and  interpreted  in  his  own  fashion  the 
saying  of  Protagoras,  that  man  is  the  measure  of  all 
things;  but  the  question  is,  what  is  man  in  himself?  and 
is  there  not  at  the  root  of  his  being  something  stable, 
fixed,  eternally  true  ?  Socrates  emphatically  affirms  that 
there  is.  The  man  of  Protagoras  is  the  man  of  current 
opinion.  But  if  we  take  deeper  soundings,  we  shall  find 
beneath  these  ebbing  and  flowing  tides,  the  rock  that 
cannot  be  shaken,  that  is  to  say  the  true  knowledge 
which  is  of  God.  "  The  soul  of  man,  partaking  of  the 
divine  nature,"  is  a  prophetess,  and  it  is  of  the  first 
importance  to  arrive  at  a  true  knowledge  of  it  and  to 
"  reverence  what  is  divine."  "-  Therefore  Socrates  attaches 
such  great  importance  to  the  motto  inscribed  on  the  front 
of  the  temple  of  Delphi  :  "  Know  thyself."  The  <yio)9L 
aeavTov  is  intended  to  distinguish  science  based  upon 
truth  from  mere  opinion.  In  order  to  arrive  at  this, 
Socrates  endeavours  first  to  convince  his  questioners  of 
their  ignorance,  while  they  are  leaning  on  mere  opinion  ; 
and  by  the  use  of  his  well-known  skill  and  the  fine  irony 
of  which  he  is  a  master,  he  gradually  brings  the  most 
presumptuous  to  recognise  that  he  knows  nothing.  But 
it  is  not  enough  for  man  to  have  proved  his  own  ignorance, 

*  Dialogues  of  Plato.  Trans,  by  B.  Jowett,  M.A.  "  Sympcsium," 
§  215,  216. 

-  Xenophon,  "  Memorab.,''  Book  IV.  c.  iii.  §  14.  'AX\a  /.tijv  dvdpwTrov 
ye  ^I'X')  ■'""'^  Ofiov  jxirix^'" 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECE.  363 


he  must  arrive  at  true  knowledge,  as  the  fixed  idea  which 
is  capable  of  explaining  things.  This  idea  Socrates  tries 
to  evolve  from  its  germ  in  man's  inner  consciousness. 
We  are  familiar  with  the  figure  in  which  he  represents 
himself  as  the  mental  accmichcnr.  He  has  not  to  generate 
or  to  give  birth  to  truth,  but  to  facilitate  its  coming  into 
the  light. 

His  disciple  Theaetetus  says :  "  I  can  assure  you, 
Socrates,  that  I  have  tried  very  often  when  I  heard  the 
questions  which  came  from  you ;  but  I  can  neither 
persuade  myself  that  I  have  any  answer  to  give,  nor 
hear  of  any  one  who  answers  as  you  would  have  me 
answer  ;  and  I  cannot  get  rid  of  the  desire  to  answer. 

Soc.  These  are  the  pangs  of  labour,  my  dear  Theoe- 
tetus  ;  you  have  something  within  you  which  you  are 
bringing  to  the  birth. 

Thext.  I  do  not  know,  Socrates  ;  I  only  say  what  I 
feel. 

Soc.  And  have  you  never  heard,  simpleton,  that  I  am 
the  son  of  a  midwife,  brave  and  burly,  whose  name  was 
Phaanarete  ? 

Thecet.  Yes,  I  have. 

Soc.  And  that  I  myself  practise  midwifery  ? 
Thecet.  No, — never 

Soc.  Let  me  tell  you  that  I  do,  my  friend,  only  I  practise 
on  souls  when  they  are  in  labour  and  not  on  bodies."  ^ 

There  could  hardly  be  a  more  explicit  recognition  of 
the  fact  that  truth  is  in  man.  In  "  Phaedo,"  he  says  :  "  I 
thought  as  I  had  failed  in  the  contemplation  of  true 
existence,  I  ought  to  be  careful  that  I  did  not  lose  the 
eye  of  my  soul ;  as  people  may  injure  their  bodily  eye  by 
observing  and  gazing  on  the  sun  during  an  eclipse,  unless 
they  take  the  precaution  of  only  looking  at  the  image 
reflected  in  the  water,  or  in  some  similar  medium.  That 
occurred  to  me,  and  I  was  afraid  that  my  soul  might  be 
blinded  altogether  if  I  looked  at  things  with  my  eyes,  or 
tried  to  apprehend  them  by  the  help  of  the  senses.  And 
I  thought  that  I  had  better  have  recourse  to  the  world  of 
mind  and  seek  there  the  truth  of  existence."  ^ 

'  Dialogues  of  Plato,  "Theaetetus,"  §  148— 150. 
2  Ibid.,  "  Phaedo,"  §  99. 


364     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 


Thus  the  Socratic  method  is  closely  allied  to  the 
doctrine,  and  is  indeed  inseparable  from  it.  Socrates 
sometimes  used  definition  as  exact  as  possible,  sometimes 
deduction  and  induction  ;  and  he  thus  created  the  dialectic 
method  by  which  the  general  is  distinguished  from  the 
particular,  and  classification  becomes  possible.  We  know 
what  grand  results  his  illustrious  disciples  achieved  by 
his  method. 

If  we  look  now  at  the  Socratic  doctrine  itself,  we  shall 
observe  that  it  is  one  steady  protest  against  the  prevailing 
sophistry.  This  false  teaching  had  destroyed  all  certainty 
of  truth  or  goodness,  involving  the  moral  law  in  the  same 
doubt  and  confusion  as  scientific  truth.  Socrates  seeks 
to  re-establish  the  certainty  of  both ;  and  in  his  anxiety 
to  place  them  upon  an  irremovable  basis,  he  binds  them 
inseparably  together.  According  to  him,  virtue  and 
knowledge  are  absolutely  identical  ;  on  this  he  repeatedly 
insists.  "There  is  but  one  good,"  he  says,  "knowledge; 
and  but  one  evil,  ignorance."  ^  The  idea  of  good,  once 
evolved  from  the  human  spirit,  carries  us  back  by  the 
very  fact  of  its  existence,  to  a  higher  and  anterior  principle 
— to  God  Himself  who  possesses  all  in  the  highest  degree. 
Must  not  the  cause  contain  in  an  eminent  and  perfect 
degree,  all  that  the  effect  contains  ?  Zeus  being  the 
supreme  cause,  possesses  a  royal  soul  and  intellect. 
"  The  divine  nature  is  perfection,  and  to  be  nearest  to 
the  divine  nature  is  to  be  nearest  to  perfection."  '-^ 

The  prim.ordial  Being  then  is  the  Good,  but  He  is  also 
the  highest  Truth.  To  know  the  good  is  to  possess  it. 
It  cannot  be  known  without  being  realised.  If  it  is  not 
realised  it  is  not  known.  This  identification  of  knowledge 
with  virtue  involves  an  intellectualism  which  is  not  with- 
out peril,  and  which  leaves  but  little  scope  for  free  will, 
choice  being  only  possible  where  knowledge  governs  the 
will.  Socrates  lost  sight  of  the  fact  that  if  perfect  liberty 
is  to  be  realised  in  that  right-doing  which  is  the  law  of 
our  nature,  the  good  must  be  freely  chosen  or  it  loses  its 
moral  character.  It  would  be  very  unjust,  however,  to 
accuse    him  of  having  sacrificed  morals    to  metaphysics. 

•  Diog.  Laert,  ii.  109. 

*  Xenophon,  "  Men.orab.,"  B.  I.  c,  vi.  §10. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECE.  365 

On  the  contrary,  his  desire  was  so  strong  that  metaphy- 
sical doubts  should  not  be  allowed  to  interfere  with  moral 
obligations,  that  it  led  him  to  identify  virtue  with  know- 
ledge. Knowledge  with  him  is  virtue,  and  virtue  knowledge. 
There  is  no  distinction  in  principle  between  the  good  and 
the  true.  There  are  not  two  laws,  one  for  the  mind  and 
one  for  the  will ;  there  is  only  one  law.  The  Sophists 
had  raised  the  will  of  the  individual  to  the  height  of  a 
law ;  Socrates  sought  to  bring  this  subjective  law  into 
subordination  to  the  objective  law  of  existence.  He  is 
still  further  saved  from  a  sterile  intellectualism  by  the 
importance  Vv'hich  he  attaches  to  the  issues  of  life.  Uni- 
versal life  tends  to  good  by  virtue  of  its  eternal  principle, 
which  is  absolute  goodness.  For  every  real  there  is  an 
ideal.  Human  virtue  is  only  imitating  the  gods  when 
it  aspires  after  good,  as  all  nature  does  under  their  control. 
Thus  there  is  nothing  abstract  about  knowledge,  which  is 
inseparable  from  virtue.  It  commands  and  inspires  love. 
The  eudemonism  of  which  Socra'es  is  accused,  is  only  the 
consequence  of  this  belief  in  an  ultimate  design  in  the 
organisation  of  the  world.  It  seems  to  him  impossible  that 
goodness  should  not  lead  to  happiness ;  but  it  would  be  a 
grave  misrepresentation  to  say  that  he  places  happiness 
rather  than  goodness  before  us  as  the  great  end  of  onr 
endeavours.  Happiness  is  the  result  of  goodness  ;  but 
the  good  is  to  be  sought  after  first  for  its  own  sake. 
"  Those  desires  only  which  improve  a  man's  character  by 
their  gratification  should  be  fulfilled,  and  those  which 
deteriorate  it,  not."^  Nothing  that  is  indulged  in  except 
under  the  control  of  reason,  is  good.  The  greatest  good 
is  wisdom. 

Philosophy  thus  understood  is  not  divorced  from 
religion ;  it  is  essentially  religious  and  such  was  the 
teaching  of  Socrates.  He  rose  far  above  the  superstitions 
of  the  national  religion,  without  openly  challenging  them. 
In  the  multiplicity  of  gods,  he  saw  only  various  manifesta- 
tions of  the  Divine,  by  which  he  meant  the  Absolute  Good, 
though  by  convenance  he  gave  it  the  name  of  Zeus.  "  He 
thought  that  the  gods  paid  regard  to  men  not  in  the  way 


Lialog.ijs  of  P'.ati,  "G^r^ias,"  503. 


366     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

which  some  people  suppose,  who  imagine  that  the  gods 
know  some  things  and  do  not  know  others,  but  he  con- 
sidered the  gods  know  all  things,  both  what  is  said  and 
what  is  done  and  what  is  meditated  in  silence,  and  are 
present  everywhere  and  give  admonition  to  men  concern- 
ing everything  human."  "  He  used  to  say  that  the 
Divinity  was  his  monitor ;  he  also  told  many  of  his 
friends  to  do  certain  things  and  not  to  do  others, 
intimating  that  the  Divinity  had  forewarned  him."^ 

This  absolute  and  invisible  God  making  Himself  felt 
and  heard  in  the  secresy  of  the  soul,  and  overruling  all 
mortal  aftairs  was  not  simply  the  "immobile  Motor" 
whom  Aristotle  accepts  as  his  supreme  god.  Socrates 
recognises  in  him  the  God  of  the  conscience,  the  God 
whose  will  is  to  be  obeyed,  but  who  is  able  also  to 
temper  justice  with  mercy, 

Socrates  is  not,  however,  wholly  freed  from  dualism, 
for  he  leaves  unexplained  the  origin  of  evil.  In  Theeetetus 
he  says:  "Evils  can  never  pass  away;  for  there  must 
always  remain  something  which  is  antagonist  to  good. 
Having  no  place  among  the  gods  in  heaven,  of  necessity 
they  hover  around  the  earthly  nature  and  this  mortal 
sphere.  Wherefore  we  ought  to  fly  away  from  earth  to 
heaven  as  quickly  as  we  can,  and  to  fly  away  is  to  become 
like  God,  as  far  as  this  is  possible  ;  and  to  become  like 
him  is  to  become  holy  and  just  and  wise."  ^  Here  the 
invincible  element  of  materialistic  fatalism  shows  itself 
again. 

On  the  whole,  however,  the  theodicy  of  Socrates  is 
very  grand.  He  applies  it  admirably  to  the  various  duties 
of  men  towards  each  other,  both  as  citizens  and  in  the 
family  relations,  and  anticipates  as  far  as  is  possible  for 
a  Greek  of  his  day  to  do  so,  the  great  idea  of  the  rights 
of  man  as  man.  Speaking  of  the  family  he  says  :  "  That 
which  nature  prescribes,  the  lav/  approves,  uniting  the 
man  and  woman.  As  God  has  given  them  a  community 
in  the  children,  so  the  law  ordains  that  there  shall  be 
community    in    the    affairs    of    the    home.        It    is    more 


'  Xenophon,  "  Mem.,"  B.  I.  c.  i.  §  4 

*  Dialogues  of  Plato    "Theaetetus,"  §  176 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECE.  367 


becoming  for  the  woman  to  remain  at  home  than  to  go 
much  abroad,  and  it  is  a  reproach  f  r  the  man  to  confine 
himself  to  domestic  affairs."  ^  Takin  i  this  as  his  starting 
point,  Socrates  draws  a  beautiful  picture  of  married  life, 
in  its  purity  and  mutual  respect.  He  even  goes  so  far  as 
to  recognise  moral  dignity  in  the  slave,  whom  he  calls  a 
worker,  and  commends  to  the  affection  of  his  master. 
He  enjoins  the  citizen  to  seek  the  good  of  the  state,  and 
desires  that  love  should  govern  the  relations  of  men  to 
one  another,  though  he  does  not  rise  to  the  "  enthusiasm 
of  humanity."^ 

It  is  clear  that  the  whole  morality  of  Socrates  was 
founded  like  his  metaphysics  (from  which  it  was  indeed 
inseparable)  upon  the  very  nature  of  man.  He  discerned 
in  his  own  heart,  the  immortal  unwritten  laws  which 
are  of  God.  We  know  that  in  the  "  Phaedo "  and  the 
"  Cyropsedia,"  he  set  the  crown  on  his  teaching  by 
making  the  spirituality  of  the  soul  the  ground  of  belief 
in  its  immortality.  It  is  not  without  reason  that  the 
movement  inaugurated  by  Socrates  has  been  more  than 
once  compared  to  that  initiated  by  Kant.  Both  gave  the 
predominance  to  the  moral  idea  over  the  pantheistic  con- 
ception of  the  world,  and  both  sought  the  basis  of  certainty 
in  the  depths  of  the  Ego.  We  cannot  carry  the  parallel 
further,  for  nothing  could  be  more  opposed  to  Kant's 
philosophy  than  Socrates'  identification  of  moral  with 
metaphysical  truth.  When  we  consider  that  he  thus 
identified  them,  simply  from  his  strong  desire  to  establish 
moral  certainty  upon  the  very  nature  of  things  ;  when 
we  think  of  his  brave  efforts  to  deliver  his  generation 
from  a  fatal  scepticism,  we  must  own  that  he  was  truly 
the  saviour  of  the  Greek  conscience.  If  the  doctrines  of 
the  Sophists  had  triumphed,  there  would  have  been  an 
end  not  only  of  philosophy,  but  of  religion.  The  whole 
religious  movement  of  Eleusis  would  have  been  arrested. 
Socrates  did  not  himself  enter  into  that  movement,  but 
he  helped  to  foster  it  by  the  mere  fact  that  he  re- 
established moral  certainty,  and  set  up  an  ideal  of  good 
far  above  man's  poor  and  perverted  attempts  to  realise  i'. 

'  See  Fouillee,  vol.  ii.  p.  115. 
'See  Xenophon'b  " CEconomist." 


368    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

In  view  of  such  an  ideal,  the  sacred  sorrows  of  the 
conscience  were  renewed ;  and  as  Socrates  had  done  more 
than  any  one  to  destroy  faith  in  the  gods  of  Olympus,  so 
it  was  his  work  indirectly,  but  surely,  to  direct  the  minds 
of  men  to  some  coming  manifestation  of  the  Divine  more 
worthy  of  the  Absolute  Good,  which  was  the  object  of  his 
worship.  Hence  we  hail  him  as  one  of  the  great  witnesses 
of  moral  truth.     He  was  at  once  its  prophet  and  martyr. 

§  III.— Plato. 

None  ever  had  a  higher  conception  of  philosophy  than 
Plato.  Like  Socrates,  he  did  not  divorce  the  theoretical 
from  the  practical ;  he  also  desired  that  doctrine  should 
lead  to  action.  Hence  the  prominence  which  he  gives  to 
his  master  in  setting  forth  his  own  system.  One  might 
almost  say  that  Socrates  was  to  him  the  Word,  that  is,  the 
incarnation  of  the  truth,  as  he  discerned  it.  And  yet  Plato 
was  not  a  servile  disciple,  for  he  greatly  expanded  and 
largely  supplemented  the  teaching  he  had  received,  while 
always  keeping  on  the  same  subjective  lines.  Like 
Socrates,  Plato  sought  the  explanation  of  things  in  the 
concepts  of  the  mind,  thus  confirming  the  triumph  of 
humanism  over  nature  in  the  higher  sphere  of  thought. 
In  these  concepts  he  was  not  content  to  recognise  only  the 
permanent  universal  element — the  common  nature,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  the  sensuous  and  the  phenomenal.  "  He 
goes  further,  and  maintains  that  it  is  only  by  reflection 
in  concepts,  in  the  forms  of  things  or  ideas,  that  true  and 
original  Being  can  be  attained ;  the  truth  of  our  concep- 
tions, therefore,  is  conditioned  by  the  reality  of  their  object, 
and  keeps  step  with  it."  ^  We  shall  show  that  this  "  true 
being"  has  net,  however,  vanquished  the  lower  changing 
and  perishable  being,  which  is  simply  not-being.  Plato, 
like  Socrates,  falls  into  dualism. 

Born  towards  the  close  of  the  age  of  Pericles,  and  con- 
nected by  birth  or  friendship  with  the  most  illustrious  men 
of  the  republic,  Plato  began  by  cultivating  the  art  of 
poetry,  which  he  subsequently  tried  to  proscribe  in  the 
republic,  but  could  never  effectually  banish  from  his  own 

•  Zeller,  p.  140. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECE.  369 

genius.  Indeed,  if  poetry  is  to  be  recognised  apart  from 
the  arrangement  of  rhythmic  syllables,  Plato  is  one  of 
the  first  poets  of  Greece.  From  the  time  that  he  came 
to  know  Socrates,  he  devoted  himself  to  lofty  speculation. 
The  vast  extent  of  his  studies  and  of  his  travels  (the 
latter  probably  exaggerated)  put  him  in  possession  of  all 
the  treasures  of  science  and  religion  accumulated  before 
his  days.^  Writing  in  the  finest  of  all  languages,  the  most 
subtle  instrument  of  the  intellect ;  uniting,  as  M.  Cousin 
has  said,  the  sublime  and  the  graceful,  by  turns  ingenious 
and  brilliant,  gifted  with  a  creative  imagination  that  gave 
transparent  form  to  his  thoughts  ;  an  inspired  artist  no 
less  than  a  profound  metaphysician,  Plato  has  left  in  his 
"  Dialogues "  one  of  those  perfect  works  such  as  the 
world  has  rarely  seen.  When  he  says  in  his  Republic 
that  the  most  entrancing  spectacle  would  be  the  unison  of 
a  mind  and  body  of  equal  beauty,  with  all  their  qualities 
in  perfect  harmony  and  correspondence,  he  unwittingly 
describes  his  own  writings,  for  in  his  style,  thought  finds 
a  form  worthy  of  herself.'^ 

Plato,  like  Socrates,  had  a  fervent  love  for  truth.  In 
the  Symposium  we  read:  "This  is  that  life  above  all 
others  which  a  man  should  live,  in  the  contemplation  of 
beauty  absolute  ;  a  beauty  which  if  you  once  beheld,  you 
would  see  not  to  be  after  the  measure  of  gold  and  gar- 
ments, and  fair  boys  and  youths,  whose  presence  now 
entrances  you  ;  and  you  and  many  a  one  would  be  content 
to  live  seeing  only  and  conversing  with  them  without 
meat  or  drink,  if  that  were  possible — you  only  want  to  be 
with  them  and  look  at  them.  But  what  if  man  had  eyes 
to  see  the  true  beauty — the  divine  beauty,  I  mean  pure, 
and  clear,  and  unalloyed,  not  clogged  with  the  pollution  of 
mortality,  and  all  the  colours  and  vanities  of  human  life — 
thither  looking,  and  holding  converse  with  the  true  beauty 
divine  and  simple  ?  Do  you  not  see  that  in  that  com- 
munion, only  beholding  beauty  with  the  eye  of  the  mind, 
he  will  be  enabled  to  bring  forth,  not  images  of  beauty 
but  realities  (for  he  has  hold  not  of  an  image  but  of  a 
reality),  and  bringing  forth  and  nourishing  true  virtue,  to 

'  See  Ritter,  "History  of  Ancient  Philosophy,"  voL  ii.  p.  143,  et  seq. 
*  See  Plato,  Dialogues,  Republic. 

24 


370    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

become  the  friend  of  God  and  be  immortal,  if  mortal  man 
ma3\     Would  that  be  an  ignoble  life  ?  "  ^ 

Plato  sets  before  us  his  highest  and  most  austere  ideal 
of  this  love  of  truth  and  beauty,  when  he  says  that  the  man 
who  is  possessed  by  it  will  "  abstain  as  far  as  possible  from 
intercourse  and  communication  with  the  bod}',  except  so 
far  as  is  absolutely  necessary,"  till  released  unsullied  from 
the  vanity  of  the  body,  he  shall  know  by  himself  all  that 
is  pure.  He  adds  :  "  For  that  the  impure  ever  attain  to 
the  pure  is  I  fear  unlawful."^  The  true  philosopher  is 
he  who  loves  to  contemplate  truth  for  its  own  sake :  "  He 
whose  mind  is  fixed  upon  true  being,  has  no  time  to  look 
down  upon  earthly  affairs,  or  to  be  filled  with  malice  and 
envy,  warring  against  men  ;  his  eye  is  ever  directed  to- 
wards fixed  and  immutable  principles^  which  he  sees  neither 
injuring  nor  injured  by  one  another,  but  all  in  order, 
moving  according  to  reason.  These  he  imitates,  and  to 
these  he  will,  as  far  as  he  can,  conform  himself.  Can  a 
man  help  imitating  that  with  which  he  holds  reverei.tlal 
converse  ?  "  ^ 

We  must  now  endeavour  to  follow  the  main  lines  of 
a  system  so  noble  in  its  aims  and  inspiration.  Plato 
begins  by  defending  science,  true  science  worthy  of  the 
name.  This  is  distinguished  not  only  from  ignorance 
but  from  opinion,  which  is  a  premature  conclusion  of 
the  mind,  founded  not  upon  careful  examination,  but  upon 
passing  and  changeful  impressions.  There  is  nothing 
certain  and  absolute  in  opinion  ;  if  it  escapes  the  negations 
of  ignorance,  it  yet  does  not  know  true  being ;  it  is,  in 
the  language  of  Plato,  a  compound  of  being  and  not-being. 
Knowledge,  on  the  contrary,  rises  above  all  that  is  con- 
tingent and  conditioned,  and  deals  with  pure,  immutable, 
eternal  being.  "  The  soul  is  like  the  eye  ;  when  resting 
upon  that  on  which  truth  and  being  shine,  the  soul  per- 
ceives and  understands,  and  is  radiant  with  intelligence  ; 
but  when  turned  towards  the  twilight  of  becoming  and 
perishing  then  she  has  opinion  only,  and  goes  blinking 
about,  and  is  first  of  one  opinion  and  then  of  another, 
and  seems  to  have  no  intellisence."* 


Symposium.  *  Republic,  Book  VI.  §  500, 

Phsedo,    f2ll,  212.  ■*  Ibid.,  §  508. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECf:.  371 


Under  its  higher  form,  science  takes  the  name  of 
dialectics.  This  is  distinguished  f  om  physics,  morals 
and  politics,  in  that  the  object  of  its  research  is  not 
the  various  manifestations  of  being,  but  being  itself,  and 
that  it  only  pauses  when  it  has  anived  at  the  absolute 
and  unconditioned.  Even  thus  understood,  science  im- 
pinges upon  the  domain  of  moral  .,  for  true  being  is 
inseparable  from  absolute  good.  Ti>  know  the  one  is  to 
know  the  other.  Science,  in  this  higher  sense,  is  virtue, 
and  ignorance,  by  the  same  necessity,  is  sin.  Sin  is 
another  name  for  error.  Plato  is,  on  this  point,  a  true 
disciple  of  Socrates. 

In  defining  true  being,  he  does  not  go  so  far  as 
to  deny,  with  Xenophanes  and  Zeno,  multiplicity  and 
motion ;  he  recognises  and  establishes  their  reality. 
One  can  but  be  astonished  in  reading  Parmenides  and 
Thesetetus  with  the  ingenious  character  of  the  argu- 
ment, which  often  turns  on  subtle  points  of  grammatical 
analysis.  Plato  shows  that  human  language  implies  at 
once  unity  and  plurality ;  for  the  words  isolated  have 
no  meaning ;  they  only  become  clear  to  the  mind  through 
their  connection.  A  phrase  thus  combines  multiplicity 
and  unity.  The  laws  of  knowledge  tend  to  the  same 
result.  In  all  knowledge  there  is  duality,  a  subject  and 
an  object,  the  knower  and  the  known.  This  subtle 
dialectic,  peculiarly  adapted  as  it  w.is  to  the  opponents 
of  Plato,  covers  a  profound  thought  which  runs  through 
the  whole  of  his  philosophy.  Sharing  in  the  great  move- 
ment of  Hellenic  humanism,  he  adn  its,  like  his  master, 
that  man  was  made  in  the  image  of  God.  His  reason 
is  divine.  Consequently  the  laws  of  his  reason,  mani- 
fested by  the  laws  of  language,  are  those  of  being  in 
general. 

Grammar  thus  acquires  great  importance,  from  that 
faith  in  the  soul  of  man  which,  with  i^Iato,  is  the  basis  of 
all  knowledge.  In  his  view,  knowlecige  originates  in  the 
intuitions  of  primordial  truth  in  the  human  spirit.  "  In 
its  earlier  existence  our  soul  has  seen  the  ideas  of  which 
it  is  reminded  by  the  sight  of  thei"  sensuous  copier,'^ 
In  Phaedo  he  says:  "There  is  nothing  which  to  m/ 
'  Zcller,  p.  153. 


372     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

mind  is  so  evident  as  that  beauty  and  goodness  have  a 
most  real  and  absolute  existence  ;  and  I  am  satisfied  vi^ith 
the  proof."  ^ 

The  soul  springs  upward  towards  that  which  is  im- 
mutable and  eternal,  as  itself  of  the  same  nature.  All  the 
qualities  of  the  soul — activity,  life,  spontaneity,  intelligence, 
are  found  in  God  in  eternal  perfection.^ 

The  idea  originating  in  the  reason  is  proved  by  reason- 
ing. Thus  Plato  takes  natural  faith  as  the  starting  point 
from  which  to  arrive  at  reasonable  knowledge.  Contingent 
and  multiple  being,  endowed  with  motion,  is  not  the  op- 
posite of  being,  because  it  has  a  separate  existence  of  its 
own,  but  it  is  not  the  true  being.  It  holds  an  intermediate 
position.  It  is  the  "  eternal  other,"  always  blended  with 
absolute  being.^  It  is  the  element  of  contingency,  of 
plurality,  of  change;  or  to  give  it  its  true  name — of  matter  ; 
not  the  gross  matter  which  can  be  handled  and  felt,  but  a 
subtle  matter  everywhere  diffused  and  attached  to  absolute 
being. 

Evil  is  inherent  in  the  condition  of  the  finite  and 
multiple  being,  because  it  is  inherent  in  matter.  Eternal 
as  being  itself,  the  relative  not-being  will  have  no  end, 
as  it  had  no  beginning.  This  is  the  radical  error  of 
Platonism  from  which  arise  all  its  mistakes  in  physics, 
morals  and  politics.  It  would  lead  logically  to  pantheistic 
nihilism,  but  for  the  admirable  moral  sentiment  which  runs 
through  it. 

True  being  is  thus  everywhere  blended  with  contingent 
being.  It  is  the  all-pervading  element  of  unity,  while 
contingent  being  represents  diversity  and  multiplicity. 
The  element  of  unity  in  everything  is  its  prototype  or  its 
idea.  There  is  a  world  of  prototypes  or  ideas  of  all  existing 
things,  a  higher  sphere  of  being,  into  which  we  enter  by 
dialectic,  as  we  rise  from  the  contingent  to  the  absolute, 
from  the  multiple  to  the  One.  In  Farmenides  we  read  : 
"  Ideas  are,  as  it  were,  patterns  fixed  in  nature,  and  other 
things  are  like  them  and  resemblances  of  them  ;  and  what 
is  meant  by  the  participation  of  other  things  in  the  ideas, 
is  really  assimilation  to  them."  * 

'  Ph^dc,  §  77.  '  See  Sophist. 

*  Fouillee,  vol.  i.  p.  311.  ■*  Piato,  Parmenides,  §  132. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECE.  373 

These  ideas  of  things  are  connected  with  one  another  ; 
they  form  a  harmonious  whole,  and  are  all  to  lead  up  to 
one  supreme  idea  of  good,  in  which  they  are  all  comprised. 
This  diffuses  light  and  truth  over  the  objects  of  know- 
ledge, and  gives  to  the  soul  the  faculty  of  knowing.  In  the 
Republic  we  read :  "  My  opinion  is  that  in  the  world  of 
knowledge,  the  idea  of  the  good  appears  last  of  all,  and  is 
seen  only  with  an  effort  ;  and  when  seen,  is  also  inferred  to 
be  the  universal  author  of  all  things  beautiful  and  right, 
parent  of  light  and  of  the  lord  of  light  in  this  world,  and  the 
source  of  truth  and  reason  in  the  other ;  and  is  the  power 
upon  which  he  who  would  act  rationally  either  in  public 
or  private  life  must  have  his  eye  fixed. "^ 

This  idea  of  good  is  like  the  sun  which  not  only  ren- 
ders things  visible,  but  is  the  guardian  of  all  that  is  in 
the  visible  woiid,  and  in  a  certain  way,  the  cause  of  all 
things.  Thus  intelligent  beings  derive  not  only  their 
intelligence  but  their  very  existence  from  the  ideal  good. 
This  Absolute  Good  is  Plato's  God.  Indeed  he  says  of 
God,  that  He  is  the  source  of  all  good,  the  principle  of  all 
ideas,  the  Artificer  who  frames  all  things  ;  or  again  :  "  an 
abiding  and  unchangeable  pattern."  He  says  :  "  Let  me 
tell  you  why  the  Creator  created  and  made  the  universe. 
He  was  good,  and  no  goodness  can  ever  have  jealousy 
of  anything.  And  being  free  from  jealousy,  he  desired 
that  all  things  should  be  as  like  himself  as  possible.  This 
is  the  true  beginning  of  creation  and  of  the  world,  as  we 
shall  do  well  in  believing  on  the  testimony  of  wise  men. 
God  desired  that  all  things  should  be  good  and  nothing 
bad  in  so  far  as  this  could  be  accomplished.  Wherefore 
also,  finding  the  whole  sphere  not  at  rest,  but  moving 
in  an  irregular  and  disorderly  manner,  out  of  disorder  he 
brought  order,  considering  that  this  was  far  better  than 
the  other.  Now  the  deeds  of  him  who  is  the  best  can 
never  be  or  have  been  other  than  the  fairest ;  and  the 
Creator  reflecting  upon  the  visible  work  of  nature  found 
that  no  unintelligent  creation  taken  as  a  whole  was  fairer 
than  the  intelligent  taken  as  a  whole  ;  and  that  intelligence 
could  not  exist  in   anything  which  was  devoid   of  soul. 

•  Republic,  Book  VII.  §  517. 


374    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANllY. 

For  these  reasons  he  put  intelligence  in  soul,  and  soul 
in  body,  and  framed  the  universe  to  be  the  best  and 
fairest  in  the  order  of  nature.  And  therefore  using  the 
language  of  probability  we  may  say  that  the  world  became 
a  living  soul  and  truly  rational  through  the  providence  of 
God."i 

Thus  Platonism  does  not  really  recognise  a  creative  act. 
Its  god  only  introduces  order  and  harmony  into  a  chaos 
eternal  as  himself,  which  is  nothing  else  than  not-being, 
that  element  of  diversity  and  divisibility  which  the  philo- 
sopher can  neither  get  rid  of  nor  explain. 

The  Timaeus  gives  a  description  of  the  formation  of 
the  world-soul,  in  which,  veiled  amid  much  that  is 
fantastic,  the  true  meaning  seems  to  be  that  the  soul 
stands  midway  between  ideas  and  the  corporeal  world,  and 
unites  both.  It  is  incorporeal  and  ever  the  same,  like 
ideas,  but  diffused  throughout  the  world,  and  moving  it 
by  virtue  of  its  own  original  motion.  It  includes  in  itself 
all  the  relations  of  number  and  measure ;  it  creates  all  the 
regularity  and  harmony  of  the  world.  All  reason  and 
knowledge  in  the  universe,  and  in  the  individual  are  caused 
by  its  rationality  and  knowledge,"  ^ 

The  account  of  the  world-life  is  summed  up  thus  in  the 
closing  words  of  Timaeus  :  "  And  so  we  may  say  that  our 
discourse  about  the  nature  of  the  universe  has  come  to  an 
end.  The  world  has  received  animals  mortal  and  im- 
mortal, and  is  fulfilled  with  them,  and  has  become  a 
visible  animal  containing  the  visible — the  sensible  God 
who  is  the  image  of  the  intellectual,  greatest,  best,  fairest, 
and  most  perfect, — the  one  only-begotten  universe."  ^ 

From  this  divine  and  unique  animal,  called  the  world, 
God  caused  to  proceed  all  the  species  of  animals  which 
the  mind  perceives  to  be  comprised  in  the  ideal  animal, 
which  is  the  prototype  of  creation  not  only  in  its  broad 
outlines  but  in  all  its  details.  There  are  four  species  of 
animals  :  the  celestial  race  of  the  gods,  the  volatile  species 
which  traverses  the  clouds,  that  which  inhabits  the  w^aters, 
and  that  which  w-alks  the  earth.  Every  star  is  a  divine 
and    eternal    animal,  a  true    though    secondary    divinity. 

'  Timaeus,  §  29,  30.  '  Zeller,  p.  149.  '  TimtEus,  §  92, 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECE.  375 

These  brilliant  gods,  whose  mysterious  movements  in 
the  heavens  our  eye  can  follow,  have  been  entrusted 
with  the  creation  of  the  lower  orders  of  being.  They 
constitute  the  Greek  Olympus.  The  supreme  God 
bestows  on  them  the  divine  and  immortal  part  which 
is  to  be  "  woven  together "  with  the  immortal,  at  least, 
in  the  case  of  those  beings,  who,  like  man,  still  repro- 
duce in  one  side  of  their  nature  the  type  of  the  absolute 
good.^  Every  one  of  these  beings  is  in  connection  with 
a  particular  star  into  which  it  will  return,  if  by  virtuous 
action  it  makes  the  divine  triumph  over  the  sensuous  in 
its  nature.  Those,  on  the  other  hand,  who  give  the  reins 
to  evil,  will  after  death  undergo  a  series  of  migrations 
through  lower  forms  of  existence,  till  their  purification  is 
complete.^  The  predominance  of  the  divine  over  the 
material  element  is  impossible  so  long  as  the  lawless 
motions  of  the  body  have  not  been  brought  under  the 
control  of  the  reason.  Plato  distinguishes  three  parts  in 
man  :  first,  reason,  which  comes  from  the  supreme  God  ; 
second,  the  body,  which  is  the  material  element;  third,  the 
soul,  which  is  the  intermediary  link. 

Man  is  thus  formed  in  the  image  of  the  world,  of  which 
he  is  in  some  sort  a  model  in  miniature.  By  his  higher 
nature  he  is  akin  to  God  ;  by  his  lower  nature  he  belongs 
to  incoherent  matter — the  matrix  of  all  beings.  His 
reason  reflects  the  divine  world  of  ideas,  the  world  of 
beauty,  of  harmony,  of  good.  On  this  side,  man  is 
immortal ;  but  this  immortality  is  nowhere  clearly  defined, 
and  it  is  impossible  to  tell  if  it  is  really  personal.  In  any 
case,  the  interval  is  still  great  between  man  and  God. 
In  the  "Symposium"  we  read:  "Love  is  a  great  spirit, 
and  like  all  spirits,  he  is  intermediate  between  the  divine 
and  the  mortal.  He  interprets  between  gods  and  men, 
conveying  to  the  gods  the  prayers  and  sacrifices  of  men, 
and  to  men  the  commands  and  replies  of  the  gods.  He 
is  the  mediator  who  spans  the  chasm  which  divides  them, 
and  in  him  all  is  bound  together,  and  through  him  the 
arts  of  the  prophet  and  the  priest,  their  sacrifices  and 
mysteries  and  charms,  and  all  prophecy  and  incantation 

\  Tim^us,  §  41.  *  Ibid.,  §  90,  91. 


376    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

find  their  way.  For  God  mingles  not  with  man  ;  but 
through  Love  all  the  intercourse  and  speech  of  God  with 
man,  whether  asleep  or  awake,  is  carried  on."  ^ 

Such  are  the  general  outlines  of  Plato's  physics,  Avhich 
we  cannot  do  more  than  indicate.  They  exhibit  at  once 
the  strength  and  weakness  of  his  dialectic.  They  are  a 
great  attempt  to  comprehend  all  in  the  unity  of  the  divine 
thought,  an  attempt  perpetually  frustrated  by  a  persistent 
dualism.  The  God  of  Plato  undergoes  in  all  spheres  of 
life  a  veritable  torture  of  Mezentius,  in  being  eternally 
bound  to  undisciplined  matter,  which  he  did  not  produce 
and  cannot  destroy.  The  idea  of  good,  the  principle  of 
unity,  is,  as  it  were,  riveted  to  the  incoherent  diversity 
which  it  can  never  more  than  half  subdue.  Evil  underlies 
the  fairest  creations  of  good,  and  the  more  these  are 
multiplied  the  more  evil  abounds.  The  scale  of  being 
is  a  descending  one.  Man  is  a  degeneration  from  the 
gods,  woman  from  the  man,  and  so  on.  Thus  Platonist 
dualism  and  the  Indian  doctrine  of  emanations  move  on 
convergent  lines. 

Logically,  the  God  of  Plato  never  attains  to  true  being. 
If  we  look  at  him  in  himself,  he  is  at  once  universal  and 
impersonal ;  but  as  soon  as  he  enters  into  relation  with 
man,  by  a  strange  paradox  he  acts  as  if  endowed  with 
personality.  In  a  word  all  things  exist  in  him  in  their 
unity  and  ideal  perfection.  Creation,  which  in  one  aspect, 
is  a  diminution  of  the  absolute  being,  is  in  another  aspect, 
a  good  work,  since  divine  ideas  are  embodied  in  things. 
This  thought  inspired  the  sublime  saying  of  Plato ;  "  The 
world  was  born  when  love  was  born."  With  Plato,  the 
mystery  of  love  is  the  very  mystery  of  creation.  Love 
binds  together  earth  and  heaven.  Coming  down  from 
God  to  man,  it  returns  from  man  to  God. 

On  the  question  of  free  will  Plato  is  sufficiently  in- 
definite. He  seems  sometimes  to  assign  to  it  a  part  in 
the  determination  of  our  destiny,  but  he  soon  reverts  to 
the  element  of  necessity  as  inherent  in  matter,  though 
he  cannot  abandon  the  Socratic  idea  that  knowledge  and 
virtue  are  identical.     According  to  M.  Fouillee,  he  holds 

'  Symposium,  §  202.  *  Fouillee,  vol.  i.  p.  539- 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECE.  377 

the  freedom  of  the  intellect,  but  the  fatalism  of  passion. 
He  understands  by  libert}^,  the  state  in  which  the  soul  no 
longer  finds  any  obstacles  in  the  way  of  its  union  with 
good  and  with  its  object.*  Sometimes  it  acts  under  the 
influence  of  external  causes  and  of  matter,  and  then  it  is 
a  slave  ;  sometimes  it  follows  the  essential  tendency  of 
the  reason  and  the  will  towards  ideas,  and  then  it  is  free. 
Reason,  knowledge,  love,  the  inclination  to  good,  virtue, 
liberty  are  synonymous  terms.  "  No  one,"  says  Plato, 
"  does  evil  willingly."  There  is  then  an  element  of 
fatalism  which  deprives  free  v/ill  of  its  reality.  This  is 
the  result  of  the  element  of  necessity  inherent  in  matter. 

Plato  regards  our  actual  condition  as  a  state  of  de- 
cadence, and  consequently  as  a  punishment.  We  must 
be  careful,  however,  not  to  identify  this  state  of  decadence 
with  the  dogma  of  the  Fall,  for  it  is  not  so  much  our 
doing  as  the  result  of  the  conditions  of  the  earthly  life, 
in  which  there  is  an  inevitable  admixture  of  the  con- 
tingent and  material  element.  It  is  the  fatal  necessity 
imposed  upon  us  in  our  existence  as  finite  and  individual 
beings.  But  soon  losing  sight  of  his  metaphysical  error, 
Plato  expresses  in  strains  of  sublime  eloquence  the 
poignant  sense  of  our  actual  condition.  In  Phaedrus 
he  says  :  "  Every  soul  of  man  has  in  the  way  of  nature 
beheld  true  being ;  this  was  the  condition  of  her  passing 
into  the  form  of  men.  But  all  souls  do  not  easily  recall 
the  things  of  the  other  world  ;  they  may  have  seen  them 
for  a  short  time  only,  or  they  may  have  been  unfortunate 
in  their  earthly  lot,  and  may  have  lost  the  memory  of  holy 
things  which  they  saw  there,  through  some  evil  and 
corrupting  association.  Few  only  retain  an  adequate 
remembrance  of  them  ;  and  they,  when  they  behold  any 
image  of  that  other  world,  are  rapt  in  amazement ;  but 
they  are  ignorant  of  what  this  rapture  means,  because 
they  do  not  clearly  perceive.  For  there  is  no  light  in 
the  earthly  copies  of  justice  or  temperance  or  any  of  the 
higher  qualities  which  are  precious  to  souls :  they  are 
seen  through  a  glass  dimly;  and  there  are  few  who,  going 
to  the  images,  behold  in  them  the  realities,  and  they  only 
with  difficulty.     They  might  have  seen  beauty  shining  in 

'"To Liiile.,,  vol.  i.  p.  33S. 


3;8    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

brightness,  when,  v.ith  the  happy  band  following  in  the 
train  of  Zeus,  as  v/e  philosophers,  or  of  other  gods  as 
others  did,  they  saw  a  vision  and  were  initiated  into 
mysteries  which  m;y  truly  be  called  most  blessed,  and 
which  we  celebrated  in  our  state  of  innocence ;  having  no 
experience  of  evils  as  yet  to  come  ;  admitted  to  the  sight 
of  apparitions  innocent  and  simple  and  calm  and  happy, 
shining  in  pure  light,  pure  ourselves  and  not  yet  enshrined 
in  that  living  tomb  which  we  carry  about  now  that  we 
are  imprisoned  in  t'le  body,  like  an  oyster  in  his  shell. 
Let  me  linger  long  over  the  memory  of  scenes  which  have 
passed  away."^ 

Man  thus  loses  the  memory  of  the  holy,  through  evil 
and  corrupting  associations.  He  is  like  those  captives  so 
poetically  represented  in  the  seventh  book  of  the  Re- 
public. "  Behold  !  human  beings  living  in  an  under- 
ground den,  which  has  a  mouth  open  towards  the  light, 
and  reaching  all  along  the  den.  They  have  been  here 
from  their  childhood,  and  have  their  legs  and  necks 
chained  so  that  they  cannot  move,  and  can  only  see 
before  them,  for  the  chains  are  arranged  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  prevent  them  from  turning  their  heads. 
Above  and  behind  them,  the  light  of  a  fire  is  blazing  at  a 
distance,  and  they  see  only  their  own  shadows  or  the 
shadows  of  one  another,  which  the  fire  throws  on  the 
opposite  wall  of  the  cave."^ 

Even  these  dim  and  passing  shadows  suffice,  however, 
to  revive  the  memory  of  the  height  from  vs^hich  man  has 
fallen  ;  unless,  indeed,  he  has  laid  the  reins  on  the  neck 
of  the  wild  and  fiery  steed,  which,  in  Platonic  symbohsm, 
represents  the  material  life.  Man,  still  retaining  some 
dim  recollection  of  the  holy  mysteries,  is  drawn  by  the 
imperfect  beauty  which  he  sees  around  him,  towards  the 
perfect  beauty  on  which  he  once  gazed.  His  soui 
recovers  the  wings  which  formerly  bore  him  aloft  into 
the  serene  regions  cf  essential  life  and  beauty.  "  For- 
getting earthly  interests,  and  wrapt  in  the  divine,  the 
vulgar  deem  him  mc.d,  and  rebuke  him  ;  they  do  not  see 
that  he  is  inspired."'^ 

>  PhKdms,  §  250,  ■■'  Republic,  Book  VII.  §514. 

»  Phsedrus,  §  249. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECE.  379 


The  beautiful  and  the  true  is  a  ray  from  God,  and 
all  broken  and  transitory  as  it  is  in  its  earthly  manifesta- 
tion, it  suffices  to  recall  the  supreme  beauty  and  to 
awaken  desire  after  it.  Philosophy  is  not  to  be  mere 
barren  contemplation.  "  He  who  loves  the  beautiful  is 
called  a  lover  because  he  partakes  of  it."  So  the  philo- 
sopher is  to  realise  as  well  as  to  admire  the  good,  and 
Plato's  whole  system  of  morals  is  designed  to  show  how 
this  may  be.  We  know  already  the  nature  of  the  true 
good.  The  true  good  is  God.  To  practise  the  good  is 
to  resemble  God.  But  God  is  the  One  and  Absolute 
Being.  Evil,  as  we  have  seen,  is  identified  with  contin- 
gency, diversity,  the  material  life.  To  resemble  God  is 
then  to  aspire  to  unity,  and,  as  far  as  possible,  to  eschew 
and  repudiate  the  contingent  with  all  appertaining  to  it, 
both  in  the  inner  and  the  outer  life. 

Such  a  system  of  morals,  identified  as  it  is  with  the 
Platonist  metaphysics,  necessarily  leads  to  the  sacrifice  of 
individuality.  It  tends  to  absorb  the  parts  in  the  whole, 
and  to  ignore  all  individuality.  This  explains  how  it  was 
that  Plato's  system  of  morals  was  inseparable  from  his 
politics,  and  that  he  expounded  both  in  the  same  treatise. 
In  a  system  in  which  the  good  is  unity,  society  is  every- 
thing, the  individual  nothing.  The  primary  duty  is  to 
get  rid  of  all  individuality.  It  is  then  only  in  the  social 
sphere,  or  in  the  republic,  that  man  can  realise  the  good  ; 
for  the  State  alone  corresponds  to  that  world  of  ideas 
which  is  the  world  of  unity.  Thus  the  type  of  the  good 
for  the  individual,  is  borrowed  from  the  State,  which 
brings  all  classes  of  society  into  unity. ^  Evil  in  us  is  a 
schism,  it  is  the  revolt  of  some  faculty  breaking  the  in- 
ward unity  and  destroying  the  equilibrium  of  the  soul  by^ 
setting  one  part  against  another. 

Justice  consists  in  binding  together  all  the  elements 
which  compose  the  man,  so  that  from  their  concert,  there 
results  a  harmonious  and  well-regulated  whole.  Plato 
distinguishes  four  virtues :  temperance,  courage,  justice, 
and  reason.  To  these  four  virtues  correspond  four  orders 
in   the    State  ;•   slaves,   warriors,  magistrates,   and    philo- 

•  Republic,  Eook  IV.  §  435. 


38o    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

sophers.  The  government  of  the  State  belongs  to  the 
latter.-^  Justice  is  especially  incumbent  on  magistrates, 
courage  on  soldiers,  reason  on  philosophers.  Temper- 
ance, which,  in  the  individual,  consists  in  subjecting  the 
lower  part  of  the  nature  in  man  to  the  higher,  is  realised 
in  the  republic  by  the  maintenance  of  the  social  hierarchy, 
and  thus  it  is  practised  by  the  lower  classes  no  less  than 
by  magistrates  and  soldiers.  By  means  of  this  virtue, 
harmony  is  preserved  in  the  State,  which  thus  comes  to 
reflect,  in  some  degree,  the  harmony  and  unity  of  the 
world  of  ideas. 

All  the  grave  errors  in  the  picture  that  Plato  draws 
for  us  of  the  ideal  republic,  are  traceable  to  the  funda- 
mental error  of  his  system.  If  he  ignores  the  rights 
of  property,  if  he  destroys  family  life  by  sanctioning  a 
community  of  wives  and  children,  if  he  conceives  of 
education  as  carried  on  wholly  outside  the  paternal 
roof,  he  is  true  in  all  this  to  the  general  tenor  of  his 
teaching,  which  involves  the  sacrifice  of  the  individual 
to  the  phantom  of  unity,  and  attaches  no  importance  to 
the  separate  parts  in  comparison  with  the  whole.  Thus 
the  barrier  behind  which  private  life  entrenches  itself, 
must  be  thrown  down  ;  for  the  community  of  goods  is  the 
ideal  of  a  truly  philosophical  republic.  Logically,  Plato 
ought  to  have  gone  further  still.  He  ought  to  have 
arrived  at  the  pure  asceticism  contained  in  germ  in  all 
dualism.  But  Greece,  and  especially  Greece  after  Pericles, 
is  not  the  East.  The  air  that  the  men  of  Greece  breathe 
makes  them  strong  and  free ;  it  stirs  them  to  action. 
Plato  does  not  then  teach  universal  annihilation,  but  only 
the  effacement  of  individuality.  Just  as  time  was  to  him 
a  fleeting  image  of  eternity,  so  he  desired  that  the  ideal 
Republic  should  be  a  fleeting  image  of  the  unity  of  the 
higher  world.  However  much  we  may  regret  his  errors, 
it  must  be  owned  that  the  picture  which  he  draws 
for  us  of  the  ideal  Republic  in  which  everything,  from 
gymnastics  and  music  to  philosophy,  was  to  aim  at  god- 
likeness,  is  full  of  a  fine  spirituality.  Very  touching  is  the 
manner  in  which  he  regards  the  education  of  the  young. 

'  See  Republic,  Book  IV. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECE.  381 

He  would  have  them  sedulously  guarded  from  all  corrupt- 
ing influences,  and  would,  as  he  says,  foster  the  growth 
of  their  soul-wings,  by  exercise  in  the  luminous  atmosphere 
of  truth  and  beauty  which  is  alone  adapted  for  them. 

We  thus  bring  to  a  close  our  rapid  sketch  of  this  great 
philosophy  which  has  played  so  important  a  part  in  the 
intellectual  and  religious  history  of  mankind.  We  can 
easily  measure  the  distance  which  divides  it  from  Chris- 
tianity. Even  setting  aside  the  metaphysical,  and  looking 
only  at  the  moral  aspect  of  the  Platonist  teaching,  there 
is  as  much  difference  between  the  morality  of  Christ  and 
that  of  Plato,  as  between  the  Christian  teaching  and  the 
esoteric  speculation  of  the  Academy.  It  cannot  indeed 
be  otherwise,  for  the  separation  of  dogma  from  morality 
is  an  invention  of  that  lower  philosophy  which  argues 
that  if  the  application  be  right,  we  need  not  inquire  into 
the  principle.  It  would  be  strange  to  apply  such  a  doctrine 
to  the  great  idealist  of  antiquity,  who  only  lived  for  the 
higher  and  ideal  world.  As  is  the  god,  so  will  be  the 
idea  of  duty ;  like  doctrine,  like  morals.  The  same  in- 
terval which  divides  the  god  of  Plato  from  the  Christian's 
God  exists  between  the  two  systems  of  morals.  On  the 
one  hand,  dualism  leads  to  the  annihilation  of  all  indivi- 
duality; on  the  other,  a  triumphant  spiritualism  consecrates 
personal  character,  and  makes  it  the  corner-stone  of  the 
building.  Plato  tells  man,  as  the  Gospel  does,  that  his 
duty  is  to  be  like  God ;  but  while  the  God  of  Plato  is  only 
a  sublime  idea — Absolute  Reason  and  Goodness — never 
entering  into  direct  communication  with  men,  the  God 
of  the  Christians  is  the  living  God,  the  Holy  and  Perfect 
One,  the  God  revealed  in  Christ,  whose  name  is  Love. 
Hence  the  breadth  and  vital  force  of  the  Gospel  morality. 

While  pointing  out  the  deficiencies  in  the  teaching  of 
Plato,  we  by  no  means  intend  to  depreciate  it.  On  the 
contrary,  we  would  rather  magnify  its  true  mission.  If 
we  regard  this  sublime  philosophy  as  a  preparation  for 
Christianity  and  not  as  an  equivalent  to  the  Gospel,  it 
will  appear  to  us  truly  admirable.  It  struck  a  deathblow 
at  polytheism  by  the  keen  shafts  of  its  dialectics.  Plato, 
the  poet-philosopher,  sacrificed  even  Homer  himself  to 
monotheism,  and  the  greatness  of  the  sacrifice  showed 


382    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIA.NITT. 

the  strergth  of  the  conviction.  He  could  not  pardon  the 
siren  whose  songs  had  bewitched  Greece,  or  pay  homage 
to  the  brilliant  poetry  which  had  degraded  the  tone  of  the 
national  religion.  He  crowned  the  Greek  genius  of  poetry, 
but  denounced  it  at  the  same  time  as  having  lowered  the 
religious  ideal  of  the  conscience. 

Plato  accepted  humanism,  but  he  idealised  and  trans- 
formed it,  for  he  did  not  deify  all  the  elements  of  human 
nature.  He  recognised  the  divine  only  in  the  higher  part 
of  our  nature.  He  raised  Hellenism  to  its  highest  point. 
He  gathered  up  all  its  noblest  elements,  that  he  might 
yet  further  purify  and  harmonise  them.  Thus  he  was, 
next  to  Socrates,  the  inspired  apostle  of  the  moral  idea, 
not  indeed  apprehending  it  in  all  its  depth,  but  presenting 
it  nevertheless  in  its  purity  and  inflexible  rigour.  Any 
one  who  reads  Gorgias,  Philebus,  and  above  all  the 
Republic  and  the  Laws,  cannot  fail  to  be  impressed 
with  the  way  in  which  the  great  voice  of  the  human 
conscience  makes  itself  heard  above  all  the  sophisms  of 
self-interest,  and  the  tumult  of  passion.  If,  in  the  first 
part  of  the  Republic,  w^e  watch  the  triumph  of  the 
unjust  man,  it  is  only  in  order  that  in  the  conclusion  we 
may  see  how  false  and  fleeting  this  triumph  was.  "  Look 
at  things,"  he  says,  "  as  they  really  are,  and  you  will  see 
that  the  clever  unjust  are  in  the  case  of  runners,  who  run 
well  from  the  starting-place  to  the  goal  but  not  back  again 
from  the  goal :  they  go  off  at  a  great  pace,  but  in  the 
end  only  look  foolish,  slinking  away  with  their  ears  down 
on  their  shoulders,  and  without  a  crown  ;  but  the  true 
runner  comes  to  the  finish  and  receives  the  prize  and  is 
crowned.  And  this  is  the  way  with  the  just ;  he  who 
endures  to  the  end  of  every  action  and  occasion  of  his 
entire  life,  has  a  good  report  and  carries  off  the  prize 
which  men  bestow.  .  .  .  This  then  must  be  our  notion 
of  the  just  man,  that  even  when  he  is  in  poverty  and 
sickness,  or  any  other  seeming  misfortune,  all  things 
will  in  the  end  work  together  for  good  to  him  in  life  and 
death  :  for  the  gods  have  a  care  of  any  one  whose  desire 
is  to  become  just  and  to  be  like  God,  as  far  as  man  can 
attain  to  the  divine  likeness,  by  the  pursuit  of  virtue."^ 
•  Republic  Book  X.  §  613. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECE.  383 

Plato  rises  so  far  above  all  eudemonism  that  he  declares 
plainly  in  Gorgias  that  it  is  better  to  suffer  wrong 
than  to  do  wrong.  "  Of  all  that  has  been  said,  nothing 
remains  unshaken  but  the  saying,  that  to  do  injustice  is 
more  to  be  avoided  than  to  softer  injustice,  and  that  the 
reality  and  not  the  appearance  of  virtue  is  to  be  followed 
above  all  things,  as  well  in  public  as  in  private  life. 
And  never  mind  if  some  one  despises  you  as  a  fool,  and 
insults  you,  if  he  has  a  mind  ;  let  him  strike  you,  by  Zeus, 
and  do  you  be  of  good  cheer  and  do  not  mind  the  insulting 
blow,  for  you  will  never  come  to  harm  in  the  practice  of 
virtue,  if  you  are  a  really  good  and  true  man."  ^ 

The  ethics  of  Plato  have  further  this  remarkable  charac- 
teristic, that  they  are  not  tainted  with  the  cold  and  frivolous 
Pelagianism  which  underlies  all  purely  philosophical  sys- 
tems of  morality.  He  recognises  that  man  cannot  unaided 
rise  to  goodness.  "Virtue"  we  read  in  Meno,  "is  not 
natural  to  man  neither  can  he  be  taught  it,  but  it  proceeds 
from  a  divine  influence.  Virtue  comes  by  a  gift  of  God 
to  those  who  possess  it."  ^ 

Plato,  in  formulating  his  system  of  morals,  was  carrying 
on  and  completing  the  work  of  Socrates.  The  voice  of 
God  still  reverberated  in  the  human  heart,  and  it  found 
in  Plato  an  echo  to  which  all  Greece  listened,  though  the 
austere  revelation  of  conscience  was  sometimes  conve^'ed 
in  language  so  harmonious,  that  a  nation  of  artists,  hke 
the  Greeks,  were  somewhat  diverted  from  the  substance 
of  the  message  by  the  beauty  of  the  form.  The  tables  of 
the  eternal  law,  though  hewn  of  the  whitest  marble  and 
marvellously  carved,  were  none  the  less  read  by  her. 
This  is  a  fact  of  immense  importance  in  the  work  of 
preparation  going  on  in  the  midst  of  paganism.  More- 
over Plato  was  not  content  with  bringing  home  to  his 
fellow-citizens  the  sense  of  their  degeneracy,  by  his  pure 
presentation  of  the  moral  ideal.  He  affirmed  the  fact 
of  human  deterioration  in  vigorous  language,  as  we  have 
already  shown  in  our  extracts  from  Phsedrus.  The  soul 
in  its  present  state  seemed  to  him  disfigured  by  ten  thou- 
sand ills,  like  Glaucus  the  sea-god  whose  original  image 

'  Gorgias  §  527.  •  See  the  conclusion  of  Meno. 


384    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

can  hardly  be  discerned,  because  his  natural  members  are 
broken  off  and  crushed  and  in  many  ways  damaged  by  the 
waves ;  and  incrustrations  have  grown  over  them  of  sea- 
weed and  shells  and  stones  so  that  he  is  liker  to  some 
sea-monster  than  to  his  natural  form."  ^ 

We  see  also  in  Plato's  penal  legislation,  that  he  recog- 
nised the  lawfulness  of  punishment  from  a  moral  point  of 
view,  and  assigned  a  place  to  it  in  his  idea  of  expiation.^ 
It  was  impossible,  that  insisting  as  he  did,  upon  the  piti- 
ful condition  of  man  upon  earth,  he  should  not  have 
helped  to  arouse  in  his  disciples  earnest  aspirations  after  a 
better  state.  Unhappily  he  partly  falsified  this  longing  even 
while  he  stimulated  it ;  for  he  taught  salvation  by  know- 
ledge rather  than  by  a  return  to  God.  Such  a  salvation 
was  purely  intellectual  and  consequently  essentially  esoteric, 
and  little  adapted  to  the  masses  of  mankind.  This  is  the 
weak  point  of  Platonism,  as  of  all  philosophy  which  does 
not  lead  to  a  practical  religion.  It  sees  what  man  wants, 
but  cannot  give  it  to  him.  Man  cannot  be  saved  by  a 
system,  for  salvation  is  a  fact.  But  it  was  nevertheless 
an  inestimable  service  rendered  to  fallen  humanity  to 
make  it  conscious  of  its  deepest  needs,  and  to  give  them 
immortal  expression. 

After  all,  Platonism  was  the  most  powerful  protest  of 
the  spirit  against  the  flesh,  uttered  in  the  ancient  world. 
We  cannot  better  summarise  our  estimate  of  this  glorious 
school,  than  by  applying  to  it  that  which  Plato  so  poetically 
says  of  love  in  his  Symposium:^  that  it  is  the  desire  of 
*'  the  everlasting  possession  of  the  good,"  not  yet  realised. 

The  reader  will  see  how  impossible  it  is  to  maintain, 
as  M.  Havet  does,  that  between  Plato  and  the  Gospel 
there  is  only  a  difference  of  degree,  and  that  Christianity 
has  simply  added  the  cross  and  inscribed  its  name  upon 
the  edifice  erected  by  the  great  philosopher.  We  in  no 
way  depreciate  the  beauty  of  the  admirable  work  of 
Platonism,  but  to  identify  it  with  Christianity  is  to  lose 
sight  of  the  dualist  element,  which  mingles  with  its  meta- 
physics and  lowers  its  system  of  morals,  pure,  as  by  com- 

>  Republic,  Book  X.  §  61 1. 

*  See  Goigias  and  Havet,  i.  242. 

•  Symposium,  204. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECE.  385 

parison,  it  is.  It  is  also  to  ignore  the  specific  claim  of 
the  Gospel  to  be  something  more  than  a  mere  doctrine, 
to  be  in  fact,  the  great  fulfilment  of  all  the  aspirations  of 
the  past. 

§  IV. — Aristotle.^ 

We  shall  not  dwell  long  on  the  philosophy  of  Aristotle, 
great  as  its  influence  was.  His  peculiar  honour  is  that  he 
originated  an  immortal  method,  and  created  the  scientific 
encyclopaedia  of  the  ancient  world. ^  The  Aristotelian 
method  differs,  as  we  know,  markedly  from  the  Platonic, 
though  Aristotle  was  for  twenty  years  a  disciple  in  the 
school  of  Plato,  and  on  one  point  remained  always  faith- 
ful to  him.  He  held  as  firmly  as  Plato,  and  perhaps  even 
more  consistently,  the  analogy  between  the  higher  elements 
of  human  nature  and  deity.  His  god  is,  in  truth,  mind 
in  its  highest  exercise.  Hence  Aristotle  studied  the 
mind  of  man  and  its  revelation  in  language,  with  scrupulous 
care,  hoping  in  this  way  to  arrive  at  the  universal  laws 
of  being.  We  can  understand  the  importance,  which, 
from  this  point  of  view,  he  attached  to  logic.  The  salient 
contrast  between  the  method  of  the  two  philosophers 
was  this.  Plato  rose  directly  to  concepts,  from  which  he 
constructed  his  cosmos,  basing  his  conclusions  entirely 
on  the  general  and  the  eternal.  Aristotle,  on  the  other 
hand,  took  as  his  basis,  the  particular,  the  individual, 
the  contingent,  from  which  by  a  process  of  laborious 
induction,  he  deduced  all  his  conclusions.  We  shall  not 
follow  him  in  this  close  analysis  of  forms  and  methods, 
from  which  he  derived  the  great  principles  of  his  philo- 
sophy. Just  as  in  our  ordinary  use  of  the  syllogism,  we 
argue  from  the  known  to  the  unknown,  so  science, 
according  to  Aristotle,  should  take  as  its  point  of  depar- 
ture, that  which  is  most  directly  known  to  us,  i.e.  that 
which  we  know  by  means  of  sensation.  Sensation,  being 
repeated,  produces  memory,  and  memory  experience,  and 
experience  science.     The  mind  of  man  includes  two  kinds 

'  We  refer  the  reader  to  the  complete  translation  of  the  works  of 
Aristotle  by  M.  Barthelemy  St.  Hilaire,  with  the  valuable  commentaries 
accompanying  it. 

^  Havet,  vol.  i.  p.  171. 

25 


386    THE  ANCIEN2  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

of  intelligence — the  passive,  which  is,  as  it  were,  the  re- 
ceptacle of  sensation,  and  the  active,  which  sets  the 
impress  of  thought  on  the  ideas  produced  by  the  senses. 
It  evolves  from  these,  the  first  principles  and  eternal 
truths  of  which  it  has  the  type  in  itself.  This  active 
intelligence  is  the  divine  element  of  mind.  It  is  this 
which  imparts  an  intelligible  character  and  definite  form 
to  the  incoherent  and  indistinct  elements,  which  come  to  us 
through  the  channel  of  sensation.  Thus,  in  man  himself 
we  find  the  duality  of  matter  and  form,  which  runs  through 
the  whole  Aristotelian  system.  Matter  is  the  passive, 
indeterminate,  general ;  form,  on  the  other  hand,  is  the 
active,  determinate,  particular.  Mind  is  allied  to  the 
material  world  on  its  passive  side,  and  to  the  world  of 
the  divine  by  its  active  functions.^  Aristotle  raises  these 
results  of  logic  to  the  height  of  universal  principles.  He 
proves  that  the  essence  of  a  thing  does  not  consist  in 
that  which  it  has  in  common  with  all  other  things,  but 
in  that  which  distinguishes  it  from  others.  It  is  by  these 
differences  that  it  is  defined ;  these  then  are  its  essential 
elements.  Consequently  the  essence  of  being  must  not 
be  sought  in  the  element  of  unity  and  universality,  or 
in  the  concept,  as  Plato  taught ;  but  in  the  element  of 
diversity  and  individuality.  Nothing  could  be  more 
diametrically  opposed  to  Platonism  than  this. 

The  opposition  between  matter  and  form,  in  Aristotle's 
system,  corresponds  to  the  opposition  which  exists  be- 
tween the  general  and  the  particular.  On  the  one  hand 
is  pure  passivity,  not-being,  the  potential,  the  virtual ; 
on  the  other  hand  activity,  being,  thought.  Matter  and 
form  are  the  two  great  causes  from  which  all  beings  pro- 
ceed. Aristotle  attaches  great  importance  to  this  distinc- 
tion between  simply  virtual,  potential  being,  and  true 
being.  The  virtual  only  becomes  the  real  by  means  of 
the  formal  or  formative  cause,  which  gives  it  the  definite 
type  in  view  of  which  it  exists.  It  was  by  starting  with 
this  distinction  between  being  in  posse  and  being  de  facto, 
that  Aristotle  was  led  to  affirm  the  pre-existence  and  eternal 
activity  of  the  first  principle.     It  was  of  necessity  that  at 

*  KCLi  6  yoCs  tQv  iax<iTWV  eir  dfx<p6Tepa  Atd  Kai  dpxv  Kai  rkXos.  Eth.  Nic, 
vi,  12. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECE.  3^7 

the  origin  of  things  there  should  exist  one  real  being,  else 
it  would  be  impossible  to  understand  how  the  merely 
virtual  could  ever,  unaided,  pass  into  the  real.  Since  then, 
that  which  becomes,  cannot  proceed  from  that  which  is 
not,  there  must  be  prior  to  the  becoming  some  absolute 
first  principle.  "  This  then  is  true,  that  there  exists  a 
Being  from  which  all  motion  proceeds  but  that  this 
moving  cause  is  itself  unmoved."^  We  arrive  at  the  same 
result  by  another  method.  The  formal  cause  is  at  the 
same  time  the  moving  and  final  cause,^  for  clearly  it  is  the 
element  of  determination  which  imparts  motion  to  passive 
matter  by  determining  it ;  and  it  also  is  the  fulfilment  of 
being,  since  being  does  not  exist  really  till  it  has  passed 
from  the  indeterminate  to  the  determinate. 

"  Motion  or  change  is  in  fact  nothing  else  than  the 
realisation  of  the  possible  as  such."  ^  It  is  an  eternal  and 
permanent  principle.  If  motion  is  thus  eternal  and  uni- 
versal, it  is  of  necessity  that  there  be  a  primary  immovable, 
moving  cause  by  which  it  is  eternally  produced.  This 
first  moving  cause,  unique  because  absolute,  is  the  god  of 
Aristotle.  "  The  ultimate  basis  of  all  movement  lies  in 
the  deity  as  the  pure,  perfect  spirit,  infinite  in  power. 
The  activity  of  this  spirit  can  only  consist  in  thought;  for 
every  other  activity  has  its  object  beyond  itself,  which  is 
inconceivable  in  the  activity  of  the  perfect,  self-sufficient 
being.  This  thought  can  never  be  in  the  condition  of 
mere  potentiality,  it  is  a  ceaseless  activity  of  contemplation. 
It  can  only  be  its  own  object,  for  the  value  of  thought  is 
in  proportion  to  the  value  of  its  contents,  but  only  the 
divine  spirit  himself  is  the  most  valuable  and  complete 
object.  Hence  the  thought  of  God  is  the  '  thought  of 
thought,'  and  his  happiness  consists  in  this  unchangeable 
contemplation  of  self.  The  spirit  does  not  operate  on  the 
world  by  passing  from  himself  and  directing  his  thought 
and  volition  towards  it,  but  by  his  mere  existence.  As 
the  highest  good,  the  simply  perfect  being  is  also  the  final 
object  of  all  things,  that  to  which  everything  strives  and 


'  Aristotle  "  Metaph.,"  Book  IV.  ch.  viii.  §  8. 

^  TTcipra  TO,  yiyvofj-eva  viro  re  tIvo%  yiyveTai  /cat  e/c  tIvos, 

'  Zeller,  p.  191.  Arist.     "  Phys.  "  iii.  i. 


388  '  THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

moves  ;  on  it  depends  the  uniform  order,  the  cohesion  and 
the  life  of  the  world."  ^ 

These  principles  are  applied  to  physics.  The  heavenly 
sphere  is  first  set  in  motion  by  the  deity,  and  all  the  other 
spheres  move  after  it.  Movement  is  the  end  of  all  being  ; 
the  soul,  or  rational  energy  is,  to  use  the  language  of 
Aristotle,  the  evreXexeta  or  "  state  of  perfection  "  of  the 
body.  Morality,  from  this  point  of  view,  is  a  sort  of 
spiritual  mechanism  ;  everything  depends  on  motion  ;  it 
is  the  science  of  equilibrium  in  the  higher  sphere  of  life. 
We  must  not  expect  from  the  philosophy  of  Aristotle  the 
soaring  sublimity  of  Platonism  ;  it  skims  the  earth  too 
closely. 

Nevertheless,  Aristotle  has  a  high  idea  of  man.  He 
assigns  to  him  the  first  place  in  this  lower  world,  for  the 
spirit  directly  informs  the  body.  His  vocation  is  to  de- 
velop the  spiritual  being  within  him.  His  perception  of 
material  facts  becomes  a  concept,  a  memory,  pure  thought, 
reason  in  exercise.  His  final  aim  is  knowledge,  which 
deals  with  the  pure  form  of  things.  Happiness  is  to  be 
proportioned  to  virtue;  virtue  is  defined  by  Aristotle  as. 
the  just  measure  or  the  just  medium.  The  great  Peri- 
patetic philosopher,  like  Plato,  sacrifices  all  to  the  State. 
The  family  is  the  end  or  the  eVreXe^eia  of  the  individual, 
and  the  State  of  the  family.  The  dignity  of  the  individual 
is  trampled  under  foot.  Thus  Aristotle  avows  without 
scruple,  the  most  hateful  principles  in  relation  to  slavery, 
and  even  as  to  the  treatment  of  slaves,  as  practised  in 
antiquity.  Ingeniously  applying  his  ontological  principles 
to  politics,  he  sees  in  the  soil  and  in  the  population  of  a 
country,  the  material  element  of  the  State.  It  is  for  the 
social  constitution  to  give  it  a  form.  We  know  what  a 
brilliant  light  his  genius  cast  upon  politics.  His  love 
of  the  just  medium  led  him  to  give  the  preference  to 
government  by  the  middle  classes. 

If  we  now  try  to  form  an  estimate  of  the  philosophy  of 
Aristotle  as  a  whole,  it  seems  to  us  in  one  aspect  to  be 
worthy  of  the  greatest  period  of  Hellenism.     We  admire 


'  Zeller,   "Outlines  of    Greek   Philosoph}',"  p.     193.      See   Aristotle, 
"Metaph.,"  Book  XII. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  GREECE.  3S9 

it  as  the  mightiest  effort  of  the  mind  of  man  in  antiquity. 
It  has  left  abiding  results  both  in  psychology  and  logic. 

It  perfected  the  instrument  of  philosophic  thought, 
giving  it  a  subtleness  and  precision  which  it  can  never 
lose.  As  a  whole,  however,  it  seems  to  us  inferior  to 
Platonism.  In  combating  that  which  was  exaggerated 
in  Plato's  theory  of  ideas,  it  was  led  to  a  reaction  against 
the  ideal  itself  Failing  just  as  Platonism  did,  to  explain 
dualism,  it  brought  into  prominence  the  aspect  of  the 
contingent  and  the  particular,  which  Platonism  had  ignored. 
It  is  easy  to  foresee  that  the  successors  of  Aristotle  would 
soon  forget  the  more  elevated  portion  of  his  system, 
that  which  deals  with  the  primiiui  mobile,  and  would 
restrict  themselves  to  that  which  is  perceived  by  the 
senses.  But  it  is  from  a  moral  point  of  view  that  the 
inferiority  of  Aristotle  is  most  marked.  His  god,  as  he 
himself  says,  is  above  virtue;^  he  is  pure  thought,  rather 
than  goodness  ;  unconcerned  and  alone,  he  enters  into  no 
relations  with  men.  Morality  has  no  divine  basis ;  it  has 
no  eternal  type  before  its  eyes,  no  help  to  look  for  from 
on  high.  Thus  the  philosophy  of  Aristotle  has  had  very 
little  power  over  the  consciences  of  men.  His  essential 
merit  is  to  have  given  to  Hellenic  humanism,  its  most 
perfect  formulary,  by  representing  God  as  the  eternal 
reason,  the  thought  of  thought,  whose  happiness  consists 
in  the  unchangeable  contemplation  of  self.  Aristotle  thus 
completed  the  downfall  of  polytheism  in  the  higher  regions 
of  intelligence. 

As  we  have  already  said,  Aristotle,  like  Plato  and  all 
the  other  thinkers  of  the  ancient  world,  makes  shipwreck 
on  the  rock  of  dualism.  Zeller  says  :  "  The  only  original 
difference  is  that  between  form  and  matter.  This  runs 
through  everything.  .  .  .  On  the  quality  of  matter  rests 
all  imperfection  of  nature,  and  also  differences  so  vital 
as  the  difference  between  the  heavenly  and  earthly,  the 
male  and  the  female.  It  is  due  to  the  resistance  of  matter 
that  nature  can  only  rise  by  degrees  from  lower  forms 
to  higher."^  "  Aristotle  ■  attempts  to  find  a  bond  which 
may    establish    the    connection    between    the    vox)<^    (the 

'  Aristotle,  "Ethics,"  Book  VII.  i,  ^  Zeller,  p.  190. 


390    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY, 

spirit  or  thinking  power)  in  man,  and  the  animal  soul,  but 
he  does  not  show  us  how  the  various  qualities  which  he  as- 
cribes to  each  can  be  united  without  contradiction;  nor  has 
he  even  raised  the  question,  what  is  the  seat  of  the  human 
personality.  .  .  .  On  the  combination  of  reason  with  the 
lower  powers  of  the  soul  rest  those  spiritual  activities  by 
which  man  is  raised  above  the  animals.  But  Aristotle 
gives  no  further  psychological  explanation  of  the  one  or  the 
other.  .  .  .  Aristotle  unconditionally  presupposes  freedom 
of  will  and  proves  it  by  the  fact  that  virtue  is  voluntary, 
and  we  are  universally  held  accountable  for  our  acts.  .  .  . 
But  more  precise  enquiries  about  the  internal  processes  by 
which  acts  of  will  are  realised,  the  possibility,  and  the  limits 
of  the  freedom  of  the  will,  are  not  found  in  his  writings."  ^ 
In  spite  of  these  deficiencies,  however,  Aristotle  gave  a 
powerful  impetus  to  the  triumph  of  humanism.  In  the 
transition  from  the  East  into  Greece,  the  idea  of  God  gained 
both  in  clearness  and  purity.  Man  began  to  understand 
that  union  with  God  must  be  something  other  than  a 
pantheistic  absorption,  or  a  humanistic  apotheosis. 

'  Zeller,  pp.  207 — 209. 


BOOK  V. 

GRECO-ROMAN   PAGANISM   AND   ITS 
DECLINE. 


CHAPTER   I. 

DECLINE  OF  ANCIENT  PAGANISM,  FROM  THE  TIME  OF 
ALEXANDER  AND  UNDER  THE  ROMANS. 

§  I. — Greece  under  Alexander  and  his  Successors. 

THE  decadence  of  Hellenism  begins  at  the  period  of 
its  greatest  outward  glory.  It  goes  back  as  far  as 
the  conquests  of  Alexander ;  for  it  was  a  retrogression 
when  Greece  succumbed  to  the  influence  of  the  East,  and 
partially  fell  back  from  humanism,  under  the  yoke  of  the 
religions  of  nature.  This  fusion  of  all  religions,  this 
synthesis  of  all  the  gods,  could  not  fail  in  the  end  to 
be  destructive  to  all.  Upon  their  shattered  altars  rose 
another  altar  to  the  unknown  God,  the  mysterious 
heir  of  all  the  ages,  for  whom  the  ancient  world  had 
long  been  waiting.  From  the  time  of  Philip  and  Alex- 
ander, the  old  democratic  type,  so  favourable  to  the 
development  of  the  spirit  of  Hellenism,  gradually  dis- 
appeared. Not  all  at  once,  but  little  by  little,  with 
frequent  intervals  of  recuperation,  it  lost  its  vitality. 
Athens  lent  a  bright  irridescence  to  decaying  liberty. 
In  that  city  of  the  Muses,  political  was  inseparable  from 
literary  glory.  Demosthenes,  in  his  defence  of  the  Re- 
public, gave  to  the  world  the  finest  models  of  eloquence, 
and  by  the  perfection  of  the  mould  in  which  he  cast  them, 
made  immortal,  discourses  otherwise  of  transient  interest. 
After  his  day,  Athens  steadily  declined,  and  in  spite  of 
some  yearnings  after  independence,  she  bowed  her  neck 
lower  and  lower  under  the  yoke  of  the  foreigner.  The 
very  people  who  had  applauded  the  harangues  of  Demos- 
thenes, were  seen  a  few  years  after  his  heroic  struggle 
against  Macedonia,  coming  to  meet  King  Demetrius  with 


394    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRIS2IANITY. 

crowns  of  laurel  and  such  songs  as  these  :  "  The  other 
gods  are  far  off,  or  have  not  ears  ;  or  perhaps  they  are 
not,  or  else  they  do  not  trouble  themselves  in  the  least 
about  us ;  but  thee  we  behold  present,  not  a  god  of  wood 
or  of  stone,  but  a  true  god."  ^ 

The  various  states  of  Greece  shared  the  same  fate. 
Tossed  about  from  one  tyrannous  rule  to  another,  under 
the  lieutenants  of  Alexander,  they  attempted  to  regain 
their  independence  by  forming  confederations  :  but  they 
could  not  agree  even  in  the  defence  of  their  common  cause. 
The  Achaean  and  ^Etolian  leagues  weakened  each  other  by 
their  divisions,  and  Sparta  in  vain  essayed  to  regain  the 
supremacy.  Divided  among  themselves,  these  petty  states 
called  in  the  aid  of  dangerous  allies,  turning  sometimes  to 
Macedonia,  sometimes  to  Egypt,  and  thus  paving  the  way 
for  the  utter  destruction  of  the  freedom  of  Greece,  which 
Rome  would  ere  long  crush  for  ever. 

As  the  glory  of  Athens  declined  that  of  Alexandria 
increased,  and  it  became  the  centre  of  Greek  civilisation 
during  this  period.  Athens  had  long  been  the  most 
brilliant  centre  of  Hellenism,  its  intellectual  metropolis. 
Its  civilisation  was  strong  without  hardness,  graceful 
without  effeminacy,  combining  in  a  harmonious  whole,  all 
the  qualities  of  the  Hellenic  race.  It  was  this  which  made 
this  little  country  the  classic  soil  of  liberty  and  art ;  the 
beautiful  in  every  department  there  appeared  in  the  most 
delicate  proportions  and  in  singular  perfection.  Athens 
was  truly  the  republic  of  letters,  the  ideal  democracy  in 
which  qualities  of  mind  out-weighed  every  other  distinc- 
tion, and  where  intellectual  gifts  developed  themselves 
with  marvellous  facility,  being  stimulated  b}'  the  noble 
rivalries  of  a  free  people,  Alexandria,  the  new  metropolis 
of  Greece,  was  in  every  respect  a  contrast  to  Athens. 
Built  by  a  great  conqueror,  who  had  dreamed  of  bringing 
the  whole  world  under  his  own  sceptre,  it  had  been  chosen 
by  him  to  ser\'e  as  a  point  of  junction  between  East  and 
West,  and  contained  within  its  walls  temples  to  the  gods 
of  Egypt  as  well  as  to  those  of  Greece.  It  was  always 
faithful  to  the  idea  of  its  founder.    The  genius  of  the  East 

'  Ritter,  "History  of  Ancient  Philosophy,"  vol.  iii.  p.  378. 


DECLINE  OF  A  NCIENT  PA  GA  NISM.  395 

was  there  blended  with  that  of  the  West,  each  reacting 
upon  the  other.  Indefinitely  extended  under  the  Ptolemies, 
accumulating  in  its  vast  library  all  the  treasures  of  ancient 
culture,  and  becoming  the  deposit  of  universal  commerce, 
it  was  a  cosmopolitan  city  rather  than  the  capital  of  a 
kingdom. 

It  had  in  its  midst  representatives  of  all  religions.  Side 
by  side  with  the  temple  of  Jupiter,  rose  the  temple  of 
Serapis  in  white  marble,  and  not  far  off,  the  Jewish 
synagogue.  Alexandria  became  the  cradle  of  a  universal 
scepticism,  which  more  and  more  obliterated  the  distinctive 
traits  of  the  Greek  spirit.  As  we  turn  from  Athens  to 
Alexandria,  we  can  trace  the  transformation  which  the 
Greek  mind  underwent  during  this  period,  alike  in  religion 
and  philosophy,  in  art  and  literature.  The  fall  of  liberty 
exercised  considerable  influence  over  the  ancient  world, 
where  morality  was  so  closely  allied  to  politics,  and  the 
individual  so  completely  merged  in  the  State.  The  State 
having  become  enslaved  and  humiliated,  the  moral  ideal 
itself  was  dimmed,  and  demoralisation,  the  result  of 
discouragement,  made  appalling  progress  in  a  state  of 
society  which  offered  no  adequate  consolation  of  a  higher 
order.  In  religion,  the  purification  of  mythology,  which 
had  been  carried  on  successfully  by  the  great  artists  and 
great  poets  of  the  age  of  Pericles,  entirely  ceased. 

We  have  already  referred  to  the  prejudicial  influence 
of  the  Greek  philosophy  upon  the  national  faiths.  It 
had  destroyed  faith  in  the  Olympian  gods  by  advancing 
a  higher  ideal,  but  one  too  vague  to  take  the  place  of  the 
old  popular  belief.  The  language  of  the  philosophers  had 
moreover  retained  a  certain  ambiguity  upon  this  delicate 
point.  The  death  of  Socrates  had  ta  ight  them  prudence. 
They  shrank  from  taking  up  a  well-defined  position. 
Polytheism  was  secretly  undermined  but  not  openly  over- 
thrown. The  philosophers  had  left  it  only  a  lifeless 
corpse,  for  they  had  sapped  faith  in  the  Homeric  gods ; 
but  the  corpse  was  still  there ;  and  it  was  needful  to  bow 
down  to  it. 

Greece  knew  both  too  much  and  too  little.  It  knew 
too  much  to  believe  fully  in  its  go  is,  and  too  little  to 
w^orship  another  God.     Hence  it  is  not  surprising  if  a 


396    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND*  CHRISTIANITY. 

period  of  religious  decadence  succeeded  that  of  purifica- 
tion. Apotiieoses  were  multiplied.  Certain  mighty  kings 
were  worshipped  and  feasts  held  in  their  honour.  Among 
the  monarchs  thus  deified  were  Demetrius  Poliorcetes  at 
Athens,  Attalus  at  Sicyon,  Antigonus  in  Achaia,  Ptolemy 
in  Rhodes.  At  the  same  time,  contact  with  the  East 
revived  the  old  nature-religion.  Impiety  took  advantage 
of  this  degradation  of  the  religious  idea,  and  Euhemerus 
of  Messene  (300  b.c.)  declared  openly  that  the  gods 
were  only  ancient  kings,  deified  after  their  death  by  fear 
or  superstition.  He  spoke  of  Aphrodite  as  only  a  cour- 
tesan of  marvellous  beauty,  and  said  that  Harmonia  was 
a  Phrygian  dancing-girl  seduced  by  Cadmus. 

The  philosophic  movement  of  this  period,  even  as 
represented  in  its  best  school,  tended  to  overthrow  the 
old  beliefs.  The  more  elevated  portion  of  the  Metaphysics 
of  Aristotle  which  treats  of  the  immovable  moving  cause, 
the  blessed  God  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  Himself, 
"  the  thought  of  thought ; "  all  this  was  soon  forgotten 
or  misunderstood.  The  counsel  which,  in  opposition  to 
Platonism,  Aristotle  had  given  to  his  disciples,  to  fix 
their  attention  primarily  on  that  which  they  learned 
through  the  m.edium  of  the  senses,  became  exaggerated 
and  distorted,  and  in  a  time  of  moral  enervation  easily 
led  on  to  sensualism.  Even  the  immediate  disciples  of 
Aristotle,  Dicoearchus  and  Straton,  resolutely  eliminated 
the  idea  of  God  from  their  philosophy.  They  asserted 
that  no  divinity  was  needed  to  explain  the  formation  of  the 
world.  As  has  always  been  the  case  in  times  of  social 
decadence,  a  sceptical  school  now  arose  which  concealed 
under  a  sardonic  smile,  the  bitterness  it  really  felt  at  heart. 
It  pretended  to  expose  cruel  deceptions,  and  in  reality 
it  only  trampled  under  foot  all  that  was  high  and  noble. 
Just  as  the  earlier  sceptics  had  confronted  the  Atomist 
school,  with  the  doctrines  of  the  Eleatics  and  vice  versa, 
so  these  new  sceptics  opposed  Aristotle  to  Plato,  and 
Plato  to  Aristotle. 

It  was  their  sport  to  see  these  two  illustrious  philo- 
sophers transfix  each  other  with  their  darts  and  finally 
succumb,  carrying  with  them  in  their  downfall,  the 
philosophy  of  which  they  were  the  grandest  exponents. 


DECLINE  OF  ANCIENT  PA  GANISM.  397 

Timon  and  Pyrrho  affirmed  that  of  everything  it  may 
be  said  with  equal  truth  that  it  is  and  it  is  not ;  and  that 
therefore  men  may  cease  from  troubling  themselves  and 
subside  into  the  absolute  calm,  which  they  dignified  with 
the  name  of  drapa^La  or  apathy,^  Calm  spectators  of 
the  dishonour  of  their  country,  and  surrounded  by  every 
sort  of  cowardice  and  corruption,  they  were  the  authors  of 
this  maxim  worthy  of  a  time  when  liberty  fell,  betrayed 
by  those  who  should  have  been  its  champions  :  "  There 
is  nothing  shameful  or  right  in  itself;  law  and  custom 
alone  determine  equity  and  inequity."  ^  When  it  reaches 
this  extreme  point,  scepticism  dies  in  the  void  which  it 
has  created  around  itself.  Pyrrho  declared  that  even  a 
strong  negation  implied  the  possibility  of  a  certainty,  and 
must  therefore  be  avoided. 

If  the  importance  of  any  school  were  truly  measured 
by  the  duration  of  its  influence,  no  glory  ever  equalled  that 
of  the  Epicurean  and  Stoical  schools.  Both  have  this 
feature  in  common,  that  they  throw  man  back  into  himself, 
leaving  him  utterly  indifferent  to  the  general  scope  of 
things  and  to  the  noble  conflicts  of  public  life.  Ze;Ier 
justly  observes  that  true  philosophy,  is  the  daughter  of 
liberty.^  The  mind  of  man  had  felt  its  power  in  the  grand 
public  life  of  the  Athenian  democracy,  and  had  thus  been 
led  to  cultivate  an  objective  philosophy,  embracing  the 
world  around  it.  When  the  days  of  decadence  came, 
philosophy  became  subjective  and  centred  on  the  ques- 
tion of  happiness.  The  Epicureans  sought  happiness  in 
pleasure,  the  Stoics  in  virtue ;  but  Stoics  and  Epicureans 
had  these  two  characteristics  in  common,  that  they 
abandoned  metaphysics  and  yielded  themselves  up  to  a 
sensuous  life.  Not  much  need  be  said  in  proof  of  this 
as  regards  the  Epicureans.  According  to  Epicurus, 
philosophy  is  essentially  the  art  of  making  oneself 
happy.  It  is  therefore  primarily  a  system  of  morality, 
but    what    a   morality  !     Its    very   first    principle    is  that 

'  Zeller,  p.  269. 

^  OSre  KaXov  oure  alaxpov,  ixrjbtu  dvai  rfj  dXi^ddq.  i'3/xy  o^  Kal  ^Jei  Travrd, 
Diog.  Laert. 

^  On  the  Epicureans,  the  Stoics  and  the  Pyrrhonians,  see  Zeller,  pp. 
244 — 269. 


398    THE  A NCIENT  WORLD  ^A ND  CHRISTIANlfy'. 


suffering  of  all  kinds  is  to  be  eschewed  and  happiness  to 
be  sought  in  pleasure.^  Our  only  guide  in  our  choice  of 
pleasures  is  to  be  the  thought  of  avoiding  all  suffering. 
It  is  on  this  ground  that  virtue  (which  is  only  another 
name  for  moderation)  is  desirable.^  Not  that  we  need 
abstain  from  other  sources  of  pleasure.  Epicurus  says 
plainly  that  the  root  and  beginning  of  all  good  is  in  the 
pleasures  of  the  table.^  He  adds  that  we  must  avoid 
injuring  our  neighbour,  lest  he  should  harm  us  in  return. 
Logically  everything  is  traced  to  the  senses.  Pure  atomism 
is  the  principle  of  the  Epicurean  physics.  Bodies  are 
formed  by  the  combination  of  atoms.  The  soul  is  only 
composed  of  light  atoms;  it  will  perish  when  these 
become  disintegrated.^  In  order  to  establish  his  doctrine 
that  we  have  to  make  a  choice  among  different  pleasures, 
Epicurus  admitted  that  atoms  had  not  always  been 
subject  to  an  inflexible  movement;  but  had  originally 
been  liable  to  accidental  changes.  This  initial  stage  is 
called  clinamen.  These  deviations  gave  scope  for  a 
certain  liberty  of  choice,  which  was  however  in  no  way 
akin  to  moral  freedom.  The  gods  are  material  beings 
like  the  soul  of  man  ;^  they  are  impassive,  not  concerning 
themselves  about  us ;  and  there  is  no  occasion  for  us  to 
weary  them,  or  rather  to  weary  ourselves,  by  praying  to 
them.*  Such  a  philosophy  pronounces  its  own  sentence ; 
it  belongs  to  a  time  of  slavery  and  corruption,  for  it  pro- 
claims the  inanity  of  goodness  and  the  lawfulness  of  lust. 
There  is  no  surer  way  to  bring  a  free  people  into  bondage 
than  thus  morally  to  degrade  it. 

The  Stoicism  founded  by  Zeno,  and  supplemented  by 
Cleanthes  and  Chrysippus,  took  as  its  basis,  logical  prin- 
ciples identical  with  those  of  Epicurus,  but  derived  from 

^  "EXe7e  Tr]v  <pC\oao(f)lav  ev^pyeiav  ehai  \6ya.is  rbv  eidaifiova  ^icv 
irepLiroiovcrav.  See  Ritter,  "  History  of  Ancient  Philosophy,"  vol.  iii.  p. 
405- 

^  Pleasure  is  the  beginning  and  end  of  happiness.  Man  can  only  live 
pleasantly  if  he  lives  reasonably  and  justly.     Diog.  Laertes,  x. 

^  '-Apx')  KoX  piia  TravTos  dyadov  17  tvjs  yaarpbs  riSov-q.  Ritter,  "  History  of 
Ancient  Philosophy,"  vol.  iii.  p.  410. 

<  Cicero,  "  De  finibus,"  i.  15.  See  Guyau,  "La  morale  d'^picure  et  ses 
rapports  avec  la  morale  contemporaine,"  1878.' 

*  'H  ^vxn  (TtD/ia.     Diog.  Laert,  x.  63. 

^  Diog.  Lacrt.,  x.  163. 


DECLINE  OF  ANCIENT  PAGANISM.  399 

them  diametrically  opposite  moral  conclusions,  Zeno  also 
made  sensation  the  starting  point  of  all  knowledge.  Sen- 
sation writes  ideas  upon  the  soul  as  upon  wax  softened 
and  prepared  to  receive  impressions.-^  Certainty  is  based 
upon  sensible  evidence,  and  truth  itself  has  a  body.^  The 
Stoics  professed  the  most  decided  pantheism.  The  two 
principles  of  the  universe,  according  to  them,  are  matter 
and  reason,  which  is  only  a  subtle  fire,  the  active  principle 
pervading  the  universe,  like  the  blood  in  the  veins. ^  This 
is  the  true  god,  the  universal  Jupiter  present  in  every- 
thing.^ The  world,  as  a  whole,  is  a  realisation  of  the 
good;  evil  is  only  relative  and  apparent.  It  has  its  seat 
in  the  particular  and  the  passive.  For  the  rest ;  every- 
thing bows  to  the  laws  of  fatal  necessity.  The  soul  which 
is  itself  a  sensible  fire,  is  not  immortal,  for  it  is  corporeal;^ 
the  portion  of  the  universal  soul  by  which  it  is  animated, 
is  confounded  in  the  end  with  the  active  principle  of  the 
world.  The  universe  itself  is  to  be  consumed  by  fire,  but 
to  rise  again  after  the  burning.® 

From  this  materialistic  school  of  physics,  Stoicism 
derived  a  severe,  but  impossible  and  often  illogical  system 
of  morality.  The  fundamental  principle  of  its  ethics 
seems  at  first  sight  to  belong  to  the  Epicurean  school. 
"We  must,"  says  Zeno,  "conform  ourselves  to  nature."^ 
But  to  the  Epicurean,  nature  is  the  active  principle ;  it  is 
reason.  To  conform  oneself  to  nature,  is  then  always 
to  allow  the  active  and  rational  principle  to  rule  ;  it  is  to 
rise  above  the  passive  ;  to  triumph  over  all  emotion,  all 
suffering,  and  hence  all  pleasure  also,  for  pleasure  is  a 
passive  state  of  the  soul ;  it  is  to  arrive  at  insensibility.^ 
Virtue  is  identical  with  reason ;  hence  it  can  be  taught  as 
a  system.  It  is  absolute  in  its  nature;  either  a  man  has 
it  or  has  it  not,  for  the  rational  principle  is  one  and  indi- 
visible.'*    There  are  no  degrees,  no  shades  in  the  moral 

'  Ritter  and  Preller,  "Hist.  phil.  ex  font.,"  etc.,  p.  35S. 
^  'H  lAv  dXyjOeia  (Tu:/j.a.     Ibid.,  p.  364. 
'  Diog.  Laert.,  iii.  34. 

*  Ui'evfj.a  SifjKov  5l'  oXov  tov  Ko'crfiov.     Ritter  and  Preller,  Op.  cit.,  p.  366. 
'  Diog.  Laert.,  vii.  156. 

«  Ritter  and  Preller,  p.  3CS. 

'  Ibid.,  p.  3S0. 

*  Diog.  Laert.,  viii.  87. 
»  Ibid.,  127. 


400     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND ' CHRISTIANITY. 

life.  Stoicism  did  not,  however,  in  its  initial  stage  at 
Athens,  assume  the  severe  form  which  it  afterwards 
adopted  in  Rome. 

The  philosophy  of  the  Portico  was  to  undergo  in  later 
days  a  notable  purifying  process,  in  which  it  rallied  to 
itself  all  the  noble  souls  who  desired  to  rise  above  the 
fearful  moral  degradation  of  imperial  Rome.  It  was  the 
refuge  of  noble  hearts  ;  but,  as  we  shall  see,  it  failed,  with 
all  its  severit}'^,  to  neutralise  the  deadly  consequences  of 
its  first  principles.  It  never  could  rise  to  a  pure  spiritu- 
ality. Denying  at  once  God  and  immortality,  it  had  no 
true  basis  for  its  morality ;  referring  everything  to  the 
ego,  it  was,  in  spite  of  its  generous  assumptions,  tainted 
with  an  incurable  selfishness.  Impotent  in  the  sphere  of 
metaphysics,  it  concentrated  its  efforts  on  the  practical. 
It  was  indeed  a  powerful  protest  against  the  glaring 
immoralities  of  paganism,  but  while  it  stigmatised,  it 
had  no  power  to  arrest  the  process  of  moral  degeneration. 

Neither  Stoicism  nor  Epicureanism  had  availed  to  uproot 
scepticism.  Hence  it  reappeared  under  a  new  form, 
sheltering  itself  under  the  name  of  Plato,  and  taking  up 
again  the  chain  of  the  true  Socratic  tradition.  The  New 
Academy,  at  first  led  with  prudence  and  moderation  by 
Arcesilaus,  soon  boldly  avowed,  through  the  teaching  of 
Carneades,  that  all  certainty  is  impossible.  Taking  up 
the  idea  of  the  Stoics  that  knowledge  comes  to  us  through 
the  senses,  Carneades  showed  without  difficulty,  that 
sensation  gives  us  "  no  absolute  criterion  of  truth,  and 
concluded  it  is  impossible  to  find  such  a  criterion,"  and 
that  we  must  adhere  to  the  probable.^  Such  a  prin- 
ciple could  only  lead  to  eudemonism,  and  to  this  issue 
Carneades  faithfully  followed  it.  Thus  philosophy,  having 
abandoned  the  heights  of  Platonism,  fell  back  inevitably 
into  scepticism  and  materialism,  and  betook  itself  to  the 
unworthy  task  of  formulating  into  maxims,  the  practices 
of  an  age  of  corruption. 

If  from  philosophy  we  turn  to  literature,  we  shall  be 
still  more  struck  with  the  change  passing  over  the  genius 
of  Greece.     We  feel  that  it  has  lost  the  creative  inspira- 

'  Ritter,  "History  of  Ancient  Philosophy,"  vol.  iii.  p.  614,  d  scq. 


DECLINE  OF  ANCIENT  PAGANISM.  401 


tion  ;  it  no  longer  breathes  the  vivifying  air  of  liberty,  or 
throws  itself  with  ardour  into  the  struggles  of  the  demo- 
cracy. Its  decadence,  therefore,  in  everything  relating 
to  political  life,  is  notorious.  The  new  comedy  and  the 
idyll  are  the  only  literary  forms  of  any  real  merit.  Me- 
nander  could  depict  the  vices  of  private  life,  and  Theocritus 
celebrate  the  charms  of  solitude,  without  any  noble  patriotic 
aspirations  ;  but  these  were  indispensable  to  great  poetry, 
and  not  even  the  splendid  welcome  extended  by  the 
Museum  of  Alexandria,  to  the  most  eminent  representa- 
tives of  science  and  letters,  could  animate  the  new  poets 
with  the  divine  afflatus  of  an  -^schylus,  a  Sophocles,  or  a 
Pindar.  Tragedy  is  no  longer  the  solemn  representation 
of  national  myths ;  it  is  a  literary  exercise,  an  Academic 
competition,  in  which  a  king  confers  the  prizes.  The 
seven  poets  of  the  Pleiades,  in  spite  of  their  ambitious 
title,  do  not  rise  above  mediocrity.  They  are  but  erudite 
declaimers.  Epic  poetry  turns  to  dissertation,  it  becomes 
didactic  and  scientific.  Callimachus  of  Cyrene  does  not 
sing  the  praise  of  heroes  ;  he  magnifies  causes.  Dicaear- 
archus  writes  a  geographical  description  of  Greece  ;  and 
Aratus  indites  a  poem  upon  phenomena.  ApoUonius  of 
Rhodes  vainly  tries  in  his  "  Argonautica,"  to  invest  science 
with  a  poetic  form  ;  he  but  partially  succeeds.  The  scien- 
tist stifles  the  poet,  and  simplicity,  enthusiasm,  faith  are 
all  wanting.  Sometimes  poetry  crops  up,  as  it  were  by 
chance,  and  we  light  upon  a  beautiful  verse,  a  brilliant 
description;  but  calm,  cold  reflection  predominates.  The 
time  has  not  yet  come  when  a  new  fountain  of  poetry  is 
to  spring  up  in  the  barren  land — -the  poetry  of  sadness 
illumined  with  a  prophetic  dawn.  The  old  world  is  not 
yet  sufficiently  humbled  ,  it  is  no  longer  adding  to  its 
wealth,  but  it  is  making  an  inventory  of  its  possessions. 
It  feels  a  lively  satisfaction  in  reckoning  them  up  ;  and  this 
calculating,  self-satisfied  spirit  is  the  most  fatal  of"  rll 
influences  to  the  spirit  of  poetry.  But  if  poets  are  rare, 
grammarians  and  commentators  abound.  They  fix  the 
canon  of  the  literature  of  Greece,  and  carefully  determine 
what  are  the  truly  classic  works,  thus  tacitly  admitting 
that  the  great  epoch  in  the  literature  of  the  country  is 
past,  and   that:  they  and   their  successors  are  reduced  to 

2^ 


402     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 


imitating  the  immortal  types  of  the  beautiful,  without 
trying  to  create  nev  ones.  Aristophanes  of  Byzantium 
and  Aristarchus  occupy  the  fiest  rank  among  critics  and 
grammarians  ;  but  wliile  they  are  very  skilful  in  dissecting 
great  poetry,  they  have  no  power  to  revive  it.  History 
alone  profits  by  the  new  conditions  of  literary  art.  Its 
horizon  is  widened  ;  it  is  no  longer  exclusively  national. 
With  Polybius,  it  be[  ins  to  enquire  into  the  deeper  sequence 
of  cause  and  effect.  Eloquence,  on  the  other  hand,  steadily 
dwindles ;  we  catch  no  longer  the  nervous  and  impassioned 
tones  of  free  discussion  among  a  free  people.  Oratory 
becomes  hollow  and  meaningless ;  it  adopts  swelling 
phrases  and  affects  a  spurious  dignity.  Cicero  truly 
characterises  it  as  Asiatic  ;  thus  describing  in  one  word 
its  affected  greatness  and  real  littleness. 

It  might  be  imagined  that  art  would  have  made  real 
advances  since  the  time  of  Alexander.^  Its  first  contact 
with  the  East  gave  it  indeed  an  added  inspiration  without 
perverting  it.  The  Hellenic  genius  had  still  vitality 
enough  to  hold  its  own.  The  Greek  artist  might  be  led 
away  by  Oriental  magnificence,  but  not  so  far  as  to  desert 
the  tradition  of  his  native  schools.  The  new  order  of 
things  inaugurated  by  the  conqueror,  was  however  soon  to 
bring  decadence  upon  all  the  plastic  arts.  The  artist  in 
the  intelligent  democracies  of  Greece,  sought  to  embody 
in  his  works,  the  spirit  and  the  imagination  of  a  nation  of 
artists.  It  was  necessary  then  that  he  should  rise  to  an 
exalted,  universal  and  truly  human  standpoint ;  hence  the 
religious  and  patriotic  spirit  of  his  work.  This  stimulus 
to  truly  noble  work  is  lost,  when  powerful  princes  become 
his  patrons  :  henceforward  he  seeks  only  to  gratify  their 
tastes  and  pleasures.  All  the  great  ideas  of  Hellenism  were 
expressed  by  the  glorious  artists  of  the  time  of  Pericles. 
Like  their  contemporaries,  the  poets,  they  had  been  true  to  a 
noble  inspiration  coming  from  the  very  heart  of  the  nation 
itself.  Their  successors  were  versed  in  all  the  technical 
secrets  of  their  art ;  they  handled  the  chisel  with  rare 
skill,  but  they  had  no  great  ideas,  especially  no  religious 
ideas,  to  express.     Art  became  a  courtesan,  and  not  all 

'  Sec  Otfricd  Mulkr,  "  Archaeology,"  pp.  144 — 176. 


DECLINE  OF  A  NCIENT  PA  GA  NISM.  403 

the  skilfulness  with  which  she  played  her  part,  could 
efface  her  moral  degradation.  She  devoted  herself  to  rear- 
ing and  adorning  palaces  rather  than  temples,  and  had  an 
eye  to  the  brilliant  and  the  useful,  as  is  shown  by  the 
building  of  the  cities  of  Alexandria  and  Antioch.  The 
Corinthian  order  of  architecture  now  everywhere  displaced 
the  Doric ;  the  mechanical  arts  received  an  extraordinary 
impetus.  Chariots  and  implements  of  war  were  lavishly 
adorned.  Sculptors  multiplied  statues  of  princes,  and 
carved  representations  of  famous  cities  in  marble.  Statues 
of  the  gods,  as  being  less  profitable,  were  far  less  common. 
The  school  of  Rhodes,  founded  at  this  period,  produced 
some  masterpieces  like  the  Laocoon  and  the  Tore  di 
Farnese,  but  even  in  these,  the  aiming  at  effect  is  very 
marked,  and  while  true  to  the  lines  of  beauty,  there  is 
something  theatrical  about  them.  It  is  easy  to  foresee 
that  as  inspiration  flags,  this  striving  after  effect  will 
become  more  marked,  and  the  further  will  be  the  departure 
from  the  pure  and  quiet  standard  of  classic  beauty. 
Precious  stones  are  very  elaborately  worked  in  this 
age  of  articles  de  luxe.  Painting  follows  in  the  steps 
of  sculpture ;  it  becomes  a  trade,  and  panders  to  a 
degenerate  taste.  Mosaics  used  in  the  decoration  of 
palaces,  become  objectionably  prominent.  Thus,  alike 
in  religion  and  philosophy,  there  are  signs  of  decadence, 
checked  and  cloaked  at  first  by  the  brilliance  of  a  refined 
civilisation,  but  inevitable  under  the  growing  corruption 
of  taste,  and  the  crumbling  away  of  the  very  foundation  of 
morals  in  the  ancient  world.  A  great  event  was  about 
to  hasten  this  decline — the  conquest  of  Greece  and  of  the 
world  by  Rome,  and  the  establishment  of  the  Empire. 

§  II. —  Rome  before  and  after  the  Conquest  of  Greece. 
— The  Religion  of  Rome  to  the  Time  of  Augustus.^  ■ 

While  Greece  was  exhausting  her  strength  in  internecine 
contests,  a  new  power  was  arising  in  Italy,  which  was 

'  In  addition  to  the  original  sources,  we  refer  the  reader  to  Mommsen's 
"  Histor3'  of  Rome  ;  "  and  to  Victor  Duruy,  "  La  Religion  romaine  d'Au- 
guste  auM.Antonins;  "  Preller,  "  Romische  Mythologie  ;  "  Boissier,  "La 
rfcligion  iipmaine  ; "  Havct,.  "  Le  Christianisme  ct   ses  origine^,"  vol.  ii. 


404     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

to  become  the  fortunate  inheritor  of  the  conquests  of 
Alexander.  It  was  of  humble  and  obscure  origin.  Its 
cradle  was  a  little  town  of  Latium,  inhabited  by  a  rude 
people,  a  conflux  of  shepherds  and  brigands.  But  this 
despised  people,  who  amply  merited  the  name  of  bar- 
barians bestowed  on  them  by  the  Greeks,  possessed  a 
latent  force  which  is  the  secret  of  great  things  and  accom- 
plishes the  impossible.  It  had  faith  in  its  own  destinies, 
a  faith  which  was  indomitable  and  asserted  itself  with 
fresh  energy  after  every  reverse.  The  Roman  nation 
never  swerved  for  a  single  day  from  the  career  of  con- 
quest it  had  set  before  itself,  but  pressed  on  with  a 
perseverance  as  indefatigable  as  it  was  heroic.  No  victory 
satisfied  its  ambition,  no  defeat  daunted  its  daring.  When 
vanquished,  it  awaited  a  return  of  fortune ;  when  victor 
it  planted  its  foot  a  step  in  advance.  Never  was  the 
unity  and  solidarity  of  many  generations  of  the  same 
nation  so  strikingly  shown;  it  seems  rather  like  the  career 
of  one  man  animated  by  one  stedfast  thought.  The 
work  begun  by  the  fathers,  was  taken  up  by  the  sons 
without  hesitation,  and  without  delay,  at  the  point  where 
it  had  been  left.  This  strong  Roman  race  was  as  sternly 
disciplined  by  the  struggles  of  the  democracy  as  by  foreign 
warfare.  Fierce  debates  between  patricians  and  plebeians 
fill  up  every  page  of  the  domestic  history  of  Rome,  and 
impart  to  it  that  character  of  strength  and  severity  so 
characteristic  of  the  genius  of  the  nation.  It  grew  up 
under  a  reign  of  stormy  liberty  in  which  the  passions 
were  roused  to  the  point  of  bloodshedding.  In  the 
intervals  of  fighting  and  of  the  forum,  the  Roman  finds 
his  recreation  in  agriculture ;  he  handles  the  plough  as 
readily  as  the  sword.  Hence  there  is  a  grand  simplicity 
and  austerity  about  his  life,  a  singular  sobriety  and 
seriousness  in  his  demeanour,  comparative  purity  of 
miorals,  reverence  for  the  sanctities  of  the  home ;  but  at 
'the  same  time  implacable  severity  to  the  conquered  and 
to  men  of  alien  race.  The  Roman  of  the  Republic  as  has 
been  well  said,  was  a  man  of  equity.  He  represented 
law  in  its  inexorable  character,  and  formulated  it  with 
incomparable  clearness  and  great  practical  sense.  But 
he  did"  not  understand   that  having  rights,  he  had  also 


DECLINE  OF  ANCIENT  PA  GANISM.  405 

duties.  He  looked  upon  himself  as  the  creator  of  the 
human  race,  as  though  it  belonged  to  him  of  legitimate 
right,  and  all  he  had  to  do  was  to  find  proconsuls  to  work 
it  to  advantage.  This  stern  hauteur  comes  out  in  the 
language  of  this  conquering  race,  a  language  curt  as  a 
military  order  m  the  thick  of  the  fight,  and  witlout  a  trace 
of  those  delicate  inflections  which  lend  ;  upp  eness  to 
speech,  and  with  which  the  idiom  of  Geec;  abounds. 
Festinat  ad  res.  It  is  the  language  of  actio  \,  quick  and 
keen  as  a  sword.  It  makes  no  attempt  to  describe  shades 
of  thought ;  it  defines  its  ideas  in  a  few  sharp  lines. 

It  is  easy  to  understand  that  the  religion  of  such  a 
people  would  differ  widely  from  Hellenic  paganism. 
Utterly  destitute  of  the  brilliant  imagination  of  the  Greek, 
the  Roman  had  no  aptitude  in  creating  poetic  myths,  in 
idealising  the  life  of  nature,  and  dramatising  its  religious 
conceptions.  Intensely  practical,  rooted  as  it  were  to 
the  soil  he  tilled,  and  eager  to  become  himself  a  peasant- 
proprietor,  it  took  him  a  long  time  to  get  beyond  the  first 
stage  of  naturism,  which  is  hardly  distinguishable  from 
the  beliefs  of  savage  nations.  The  most  characteristic 
feature  of  his  religion,  before  he  came  under  the  influence 
of  Greece,  was  an  extraordinary  development  of  that 
primitive  spiritism,  which  infuses  the  divine  into  every- 
thing, and  makes  it  the  double  of  all  natural  phenomena. 
We  can  indeed  trace  in  it  the  elementary  anthropomorphism 
which  extends  and  applies  the  law  of  the  sexes  to  the 
great  forces  of  nature,  but  it  never  transforms  them  into 
living  personages  like  the  gods  of  the  Greek  Olympus. 

The  first  elements  of  this  early  Roman  religion  came 
from  the  primitive  cradle  of  the  race,  which  was  only  a 
graft  from  the  Oriental  Aryans.^  It  brought  from  thence 
the  name  of  its  gods,  which,  as  in  all  cognate  religions, 
personify  the  great  aspects  and  forces  of  nature,  in  the 
heavens  by  their  solar  character,  and  here  on  earth  by  a 
multitude  of  gods,  associated  with  all  the  manifestations 
of  life — family,  pastoral,  social.  The  divinity  thus  sub- 
divided, is  not  individualised  in  definite  types.     It  retains 


'  The  dci  are  heavenly  beings.     The  word  deus  is  allied  to  the  Greek 
Zeus,  and  to  the  Devas  of  India. 


4o6    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRIS2IANITY. 

an  abstract  character,  which  is  well  expressed  in  the  vague 
appellation  Niivicn  so  common  in  the  Latin  tongue.^ 

There  were  indeed  some  greater  gods  towering  above 
the  crowd  of  inferior  deities,  which  are  mainly  genii  or 
demons  worshipped  under  the  name  of  lares,  manes,  or 
penates.  The  lowest  rank  is  occupied  by  the  Semones  or 
Indigctcs,  who  present  some  analogy  with  the  deified  heroes 
of  Greece,  but  without  the  same  grandeur  and  without 
exerting  sufficient  influence  on  the  mythological  concep- 
tion, to  vivify  and  humanise  it,  as  in  Greece.  This  multi- 
plicity of  the  gods  led  Varus  to  distinguish  between  the 
certain  and  uncertain  gods,  in  order  to  mark  how  slight 
and  indefinite  was  the  barrier  which  separated  the  divinity, 
properly  so  called,  from  the  world.  Until  the  time  of 
Numa,  the  religion  of  Rome  had  all  the  features  of  a  pure 
naturism,  in  which  the  divine  is  scarcely  to  be  distinguished 
from  natural  phenomena.  The  god  Faunus  was  the 
apt  symbol  of  this  vague  fetichism,  which  deified  woods, 
rivers  and  fountains,  as  well  as  stars. 

When  the  greater  gods  appear,  they  are  specially  dis- 
tinguished by  the  domain  over  which  they  reign.  Some- 
times they  are  assigned  a  kingdom  in  the  heavens, 
sometimes  upon  earth,  sometimes  in  the  subterranean 
regions,  where  reign  the  hidden  powers  which  ripen  the 
seeds  and  guard  the  dead.  We  have  thus  the  Dii  superi, 
the  Di  infcri,  and  the  terrestrial  gods.^ 

All  the  great  deities  of  the  heavens,  like  Jupiter,  Juno, 
Janus  and  Diana,  owe  their  origin  to  celestial  phenomena. 
They  represent  in  the  first  instance,  the  sun  and  moon. 
Janus  is  the  most  Roman  of  these  greater  gods ;  he  was 
called  the  "god  of  gods  "  {Divum  dcuni).  His  name  is 
derived  from  dins,  diitm,  in  the  sense  of  serene,  pure. 
He  is  then  the  true  Italian  god  of  the  sun.     This  god  of 

'  Numen  is  proper!}'  speaking,  the  manifestation  of  power,  by  which 
any  spiritual  being  wlatever  reveals  itself.  The  word  has  so  distinctly 
this  sense  of  a  manifestation  of  power,  that  Titus  Livius  applies  it  to  the 
Roman  senate.  Lucretius  says  :  ''  JMctitis  iiimiot."  Subsequently  we  read 
of  the  ntimen  of  Augustus.  I  he  very  names  of  the  Latin  gods  indicate 
their  vague  character.  Thus  Janus  and  Diana,  Jupiter  and  Juno,  signify 
simply  the  divine.    Fatirms  and  Fauna  mean  the  good.    See  Preller,  p.  50. 

*  This  division  is  clearly  marked  in  Titus  Livius.  "  Dii  ontnes  celestes, 
vosque  terrestres,  vosque  inferni,  atidite.'"  Book  i.  ch.  22. 


DECLINE  OF  ANCIEN2  PA  GANISM.  407 

the  sun  keeps  the  gate  of  heaven  and  of  the  celestial  light, 
opening  it  every  morning  and  closing  it  in  the  evening. 
He  was  also  called  Quirinus,  a  Sabine  word  probably  de- 
rived from  qitiris,  a  lance  or  spear:  He  was  thus  invested 
with  a  warlike  character,  which  as  much  endeared  him 
to  the  Romans  as  his  radiant  and  fertilising  heat.  The 
closing  of  the  temple  of  this  warrior  god  was  the  certain 
sign  of  peace. 

Jupiter — Dens  pater — dividesthe  pre-eminence  with  Juno. 
He  is  still  more  directly  the  god  of  light ;  hence  he  is  also 
called  Lncetius.  As  Dens  fidius  he  is  the  god  of  plighted 
faith.  He  could  not  but  assume  a  warlike  character  in 
the  midst  of  this  valiant  race.  The  temple  reared  to  him 
on  the  Capitol  under  the  name  of  Optunns  Maximus,  is  the 
august  sign  of  the  pre-eminence  that  was  readily  accorded 
to  him.  Juno  was  the  goddess  of  the  calends,  that  is,  of 
the  days  when  the  crescent  moon  reappeared  in  the 
heavens.  This  reappearance  of  the  moon  was  looked 
upon  as  the  symbol  of  birth.  Thus  Juno  was  the  goddess 
and  guardian  of  women.  It  is  impossible  to  determine 
when  Minerva  and  Apollo  really  became  Roman  deities, 
for  we  only  know  them  under  their  Greek  form.  Not 
so  with  Diana,  who  was  an  ancient  national  lunar  deity, 
corresponding  to  Janus.  Sun,  moon,  stars,  winds  and 
storms,  were  thus  objects  of  worship  Mars  is  distinctly 
an  Italian  god.  He  is  primarily  the  god  of  productiveness 
and  of  war.^  In  this  character,  he  takes  his  place  side 
by  side  with  Jupiter  Capitolus.  As  Mars  Campestris  he 
presides  over  the  field  of  Mars,  and  the  sports  and  tourna- 
ments there  celebrated.  Venus  also  appears  to  have  been 
a  Latin  goddess,  before  she  was  invested  with  the  brilliant 
garb  of  Greek  mythology."'^  She  first  appears  under  the 
name  of  Feronia  or  Flora,  as  goddess  of  flowers  and  spring. 
By  a  strange  paradox  she  was  at  the  same  time  the 
goddess  of  love  and  of  death. 

The  tutelary  gods  of  the  soil  and  of  agriculture,  like 
the  celestial  gods,  were  of  both  sexes.  The  principal  were 
Telluna    and  Tellus,    Saturn    and    Ops.     The   first  rank 

'  The  root  of  the  word  seems  to  be  mas,  which  designates  the  male 
element  of  generation.     Preller,  p.  208. 

^  The  name  Venus  comes  from  the  root  ven,  to  love,  to  desire. 


4o8    THE  ANCIEN2   WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 


belonged  to  Ceres.  These  deities  presided  over  the 
agrarian  feasts  which  play  so  large  a  part  in  the  religion 
of  Rome.  Ops  is  the  earth,  the  great  mother,  and  Saturn 
is  her  spouse.  His  name  was  associated  with  all  the  old 
traditions  of  prosperity  and  abundance.  His  feast  was 
like  a  return  to  the  age  of  gold,  and  for  a  day  all  social 
inequalities  were  lost  sight  of. 

The  foremost  of  the  subterranean  gods  was  Orcus, 
called  the  god  of  death.  He  reigned  over  the  departed 
called  maneSf  that  is  to  say,  the  pure  and  transfigured 
ones.  The  manes  inhabited  the  deep  places  of  the  earth, 
from  which  they  came  forth  to  wander  among  men  at  certain 
seasons,  and  always  at  night.  They  were  apotheosised 
as  Dei  tnaries^.  The  secular  games  were  celebrated  in 
honour  of  these  subterranean  gods. 

The  mythology  of  the  sea,  says  Preller,  was  altogether 
subordinate  in  Italy.  Neptune  (from  veoa,  vavq)  there 
played  quite  a  minor  part.  On  the  other  hand,  the  river 
gods,  headed  by  Father  Tiber,  were  the  special  objects 
of  worship. 

Fire  was  an  important  element  in  the  religion  of  Rome, 
not  so  much  under  the  form  of  Vulcan,  which  represented 
nature,  as  under  that  of  Vesta,  the  goddess  of  the  hearth, 
and  consequently  the  revered  centre  of  the  famil}'  and  of 
the  nation,  which  was  but  a  wider  family.  The  name  of 
Vesta  comes  from  the  Sanscrit  waas,  to  inhabit.  Her 
worship  was  inseparably  connected  with  that  of  the 
Penates,^  the  tutelary  spirits  of  the  house,  who  were 
worshipped  in  the  atrium  or  vestibule.  The  temple 
of  Vesta  in  Rome,  stood  in  the  Forum,  between  the 
Capitoline  and  Palatine  hills,  and  not  far  from  the  temple 
of  the  Penates.  The  atrium  of  Vesta,  in  which  dwelt 
the  Vestal  virgins,  stood  by  the  side  of  the  temple.  It 
was  the  office  of  these  Vestals  to  feed  the  eternal  fire 
burning  on  the  hearth  or  altar,  as  a  living  symbol  of  the 
goddess.  An  air  of  simplicity  and  purity  pervaded  this 
whole  structure.     The  Vestals  were  pledged  to  perpetual 

■  Preller,  p.  316. 

*  The  name  Penates  comes  from  penus,  provisions  intended  for  the 
family  meal. 


DECLINE  OF  A  NCIENT  PA  GA  NISM.  400 

chastity.  The  Palladium  of  Troy,  to  which  superstitious 
notions  were  attached,  was  kept  in  the  sanctuary.  Vesta 
was  not  only  the  goddess  of  sacred  fire  in  the  city ;  she 
was  also  the  goddess  of  all  fires  lighted  upon  altars.  Her 
name  was  associated  with  that  of  Janus  in  all  ceremonials.^ 

After  these  greater  gods,  comes  the  innumerable  host 
of  secondary  deities,  whose  common  domain  is  the  earth. 
Preller  says:  "All  phenomena,  all  events  taking  place  ^ 
in  nature  or  among  men,  from  birth  to  death,  all  the 
vicissitudes  of  life  and  of  human  activity,  all  the  relations 
of  citizens  among  themselves,  all  enterprises  are  at  the 
instances  of  these  lesser  gods."  ^  The  belief  which  the 
Romans  held,  that  there  was  a  spirit  enshrined  in  every 
material  form,  was  so  consistently  carried  out,  that  the 
chain  of  genii  reached  from  earth  to  heaven,  and  included 
even  the  gods  themselves.  Every  god  had  his  genius. 
The  word  genius  (from  gig/io)  describes  the  invisible 
action  of  a  higher  being,  taking  place  wherever  life  is 
manifested  under  any  form  whatever.  The  genius  does 
not  keep  guard  over  individuals  alone,  but  also  over 
families,  cities,  nations.  In  the  family,  the  genius  was  ^ 
worshiped  as  the  genius  navalis — the  protecting  god  of  the 
house.  This  tutelage  was  shared  by  the  Lares,  the  spirits 
of  the  deceased  members  of  the  family,  and  the  Penates,. 
who  were  rather  the  protectors  of  the  house  itself  than  of 
its  inhabitants. 

Beyond  this,  genii  peopled  the  air  and  the  waters.  They 
were  divided  into  good  and  evil  spirits.  The  Semones 
or  Indigetes  were  the  national  genii.  They  represented 
the  fabulous  heroes  who  had  disappeared  from  the  earth 
in  some  strange  and  mysterious  manner.  Lastly  there 
were  the  purely  abstract  divinities  called  fortune,  good 
faith,  honour,  virtue,  peace,  hope,  happiness,  concord, 
modesty,  equity,  providence,  not  to  speak  of  the  gods  of 
healing  and  of  various  maladies,  including  fever.  Heroes, 
whether  Greek  or  Latin,  such  as  Hercules,  Castor  and 
Pollux,  Ulysses,  ^Eneas,  found  a  place  in  this  crowded 
pantheon.  Rome  itself  became  the  most  real  of 
all  these  divinities.     "  Our  country  is  so  thickly  peopled 

'  Preller,  p.  263.  -  Ibid.,  pp.  65,  66. 


410    THE  ANCIENl  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANUY. 

with  gods,"  says  Petronius  in  his  "Satyricon,"  that  it  is 
easier  to  meet  a  god  than  a  man."^ 

Nothing  could  be  more  bald  than  this  Roman  mythology, 
which  is  destitute  alike  of  philosophy  and  poetry.  Its 
prevailing  idea  is  that  man  is  surrounded  by  a  mysterious 
power  which  manifests  itself  in  everything.  Looked  at 
as  a  whole,  and  apart  from  the  greater  gods,  whose  more 
remote  action  is  of  far  less  concern  to  their  worshippers 
than  that  of  the  myriads  of  genii  close  at  hand,  this  divine 
world  is  neither  absolutely  good  nor  absolutely  bad.  It 
is  in  its  power  to  protect  or  punish,  to  help  or  injure, 
according  as  the  man  conducts  himself  in  relation  to  it. 
The  most  important  thing  is  then  to  know  what  is  its 
secret  will,  so  as  not  to  offend  it,  but  so  to  order  the  course 
of  the  life  as  to  appease  it  and  render  it  propitious.  Hence 
the  important  part  played  in  the  religion  of  Rome  by  sacred 
divination,  the  science  of  auguries,  and  the  minuter  ritual 
of  worship. 

There  is  no  analogy  between  the  Delphic  mysteries  which 
became  the  living  oracle  of  the  national  conscience,  and 
this  anxious  questioning  of  the  Roman  augurs  into  all 
the  signs  of  the  divine  will,  as  shown  by  the  entrails  of 
the  victims,  the  flight  of  birds  and  certain  meteorological 
phenomena.  "  Divination  is,"  as  M.  Boissier  has  well 
said,  "  a  cold,  complicated  methodical  science,  which  allows 
no  scope  for  inspiration. "  ^ 

The  Roman  worship  itself  is  characterised  by  the  driest 
formalism.  The  abstract  divinities  to  which  it  is  ofiered, 
appeal  neither  to  the  heart  nor  to  the  conscience.  All 
that  the  worshipper  has  to  do  is  to  set  himself  right 
with  them  by  means  of  external  ritual  without  moral 
significance.  When  this  has  been  observed  with  the  pre- 
scribed rigour,  there  is  nothing  more  to  fear.  If  some 
iavour  is  to  be  asked  of  the  god,  it  is  necessary  first  to 
enquire  which  is  the  proper  god  to  apply  to  in  order  to 
obtain  it.  This  is  a  question  of  no  small  difficulty.  But 
it  is  as  useful  to  know  what  god  can  come  to  our  help,  as 
to  have  the  address  of  our  baker  or  carpenter  in  case 
we  have  need  of  him.     The  god   thus  invoked  must  be 

•  Petron.,  "Sat.,"  17.  ■  Eoissier,  vol.  i.  pp.  15 — 17. 


DECLINE  OF  A NCIENT  PA  GA  NISM.  4 1 1 


addressed  by  his  true  name.  On  this  point  there  is  so 
much  uncertainty  that  even  the  greatest  of  them  is  some- 
times apostrophised  thus  :  "  O  mighty  Jupiter,  or  whatever 
be  the  name  thou  preferrest ! "  The  name  of  the  god  having 
been  found,  it  is  further  needful  to  know  the  exact  terms 
of  the  prayer  to  be  addressed  to  him,  in  order  to  ensure  a 
favourable  reply.  The  priests  are  the  sacred  lawyers  to 
be  consulted,  for  it  is  their  peculiar  office  to  attend  to  the 
minutiae  of  worship.  They  have  books  in  which  every 
contingency  is  provided  for.  The  worshipper  does  not 
trust  to  his  memory.  He  often  has  two  priests  beside 
him  ;  one  to  dictate  the  proper  formula,  the  other  to 
follow  the  book  and  see  that  nothing  is  left  out.  It  is 
obvious  that  religious  feeling  can  find  little  to  feed  upon 
in  such  a  ritual.  The  form  is  everything.  "  The  gods 
love  purity,"  says  Tibullus.  See  that  thou  present 
thyself  therefore  in  a  garment  without  spot."  ^  Roman 
piety  must  never  overstep  the  prescribed  limits  in  any 
direction.  All  that  is  superfluous,  all  that  exceeds  the  due 
observance,  is  designated  by  the  significant  name  super- 
stitio — that  which  goes  beyond  established  rule. 

This  superstition  is  to  be  carefully  avoided,  for  it  keeps 
its  subject  in  perpetual  bondage  and  fear.  Cicero  says  : 
"  I  thought  I  should  be  doing  an  immense  benefit  both  to 
myself  and  to  my  countrymen  if  I  could  entirely  eradicate 
all  superstitious  errors.  Nor  is  there  any  fear  that  true 
religion  can  be  endangered  by  the  demolition  of  this 
superstition  ...  for  as  this  religion  which  is  united 
with  the  knowledge  of  nature  is  to  be  propagated,  so  also 
are  all  the  roots  of  superstition  to  be  destroyed.  For 
it  presses  upon  and  pursues  and  persecutes  you  where- 
ever  you  turn  yourself,  whether  you  consult  a  diviner,  or 
have  heard  an  omen,  or  have  immolated  a  victim,  or 
beheld  a  flight  of  birds  ;  whether  you  have  been  a  Chal- 
dean or  a  soothsayer  ;  if  it  lightens  or  thunders,  or  if 
anything  is  struck  by  lightning  ;  if  any  kind  of  prodigy 
occurs;  some  of  which  events  must  be  frequently  coming 
to  pass ;  so  that  you  can  never  rise  with  a  tranquil 
mind."  2 

'  Tibullus,  ii.  i,  13.  ^  Cicero,  "De  Divin.  "  Ixxii. 


412    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

The  reason  why  the  Roman  religion  did  not  paralyse 
action  and  interfere  with  the  historical  development  of  the 
nation,  was  the  absence  of  anything  like  a  priestly  caste 
with  separate  interests  and  a  spirit  of  domination.  The 
priesthood  was  not  only  a  lay,  but  essentially  a  national 
institution.  Cicero  says :  "  Our  forefathers  were  never 
wiser,  never  more  truly  inspired  of  the  gods  than  when 
they  decided  that  the  same  persons  should  preside  over 
religion  and  govern  the  Republic.  By  this  means  both 
magistrates  and  priests  discharge  their  duties  with  dis- 
cretion, and  make  it  their  common  concern  to  guard  the 
safety  of  the  State."^  Men  became  augurs  or  priests,  and 
praetors  or  consuls,  at  the  same  time.  As  soldiers,  politi- 
cians, men  of  business,  they  brought  the  same  cool  practical 
sense  to  bear  on  religious  questions  as  on  their  worldly 
affairs.  Thus  there  was  never  any  conflict  between 
religion  and  the  State.  Mommsen  says  ;  "  The  clan  and 
the  family  were  not  annihilated  in  the  Roman  community ; 
but  the  theoretical  as  well  as  the  practical  omnipotence  of 
the  State  in  its  own  sphere,  was  no  more  limited  than  by 
the  liberty  which  the  State  granted  and  guaranteed  to  the 
burgess.  The  ultimate  foundation  of  law  was  in  all  cases 
the  State  ;  liberty  was  simply  another  expression  for  the 
right  of  citizenship  in  its  widest  sense."  ^ 

The  State  cultus  was  associated  with  all  that  was 
highest  and  deepest  in  the  life  of  a  Roman  citizen  ;  hence 
his  religion  had  a  far  broader  basis  than  any  mere  calcu- 
lation of  prudence  or  selfish  policy.  The  fatherland  was 
to  him  a  thing  sacred  as  the  family  itself;  indeed  the  city 
was  but  a  larger  family.  Just  as  beneath  the  hearthstone 
in  the  house,  the  ashes  of  the  fathers  had  been  placed 
and  had  become  the  objects  of  sincere  worship  ;  so  in  the 
mind  of  a  pious  Roman,  the  ashes  of  the  generations  past 
were  associated  with  the  national  altar  dedicated  to  Vesta. 
He  believed  that  his  ancestors  hovered  over  the  fatherland 
in  the  form  of  beneficent  genii.  The  fatherland  was  thus 
in  constant  communication  with  the  mysterious  region 
where  abode  the  manes  of  its  ancestors,  those   great  puri- 

'  Cicero,  "  Pro  Domo,"  i. 

*  Mommsen,  "  History  of  Rome."     Book  I.  ch.  xi.  p.  i68. 


DECLINE  OF  A  NCIENT  PA  GA  NISM.  413 

fied  being?,  who  still  came  to  its  aid.  In  this  way  the 
earthly  fatherland  became  attached  to  the  heavenly,  and 
the  one  was  served  in  the  service  of  the  other.  Rome, 
herself  divine,  belonged  to  both  worlds. 

This  religious  character  of  the  fatherland  comes  out 
very  beautifully  in  the  myth  which  sets  forth  the  fabulous 
foundation  of  Rome.  This  foundation  had  assumed  in 
the  national  legend,  the  character  of  a  religious  act  which 
the  Rom.ans  tried  to  reproduce  with  all  its  main  features, 
in  the  feasts  commemorative  of  the  great  event.  We  may 
briefly  give  the  substance  of  this  legend  which  repre- 
sented to  the  Romans  the  mythical  origin  of  their  holy 
city.  "  When  the  great  day  of  the  foundation  returns, 
Romulus  first  offers  a  sacrifice.  His  companions  are 
ranged  around  him.  They  liglit  a  fire  of  brushwood  and 
each  in  turn  leaps  across  the  flame.  The  explanation  of 
this  is,  that  for  the  act  about  to  be  performed  the  people 
must  be  pure,  and  the  ancients  thought  to  purify  them- 
selves from  any  physical  or  moral  stain  by  leaping  over 
the  sacred  fire. 

"  When  by  this  preliminary  ceremony  the  people  had 
been  prepared  for  the  great  act  of  the  foundation,  Romulus 
hollows  out  a  small  fosse  in  a  circular  form.  Into  this 
he  casts  a  clod  of  earth  which  he  has  brought  from  the 
town  of  Alba,  the  cradle  of  his  ancestry  to  which  their 
manes  were  still  attached.  The  object  of  this  part  of  the 
ceremony  was  that,  in  pointing  to  the  place  of  his  adoption, 
he  might  be  able  to  say  :  '  This  is  still  the  land  of  my 
fathers,  terra  patrwn  patria.  Here  is  my  fatherland,  for 
here  are  the  manes  of  my  family.'  The  fosse  into  which 
all  present  had  in  turn  thrown  a  clod  of  earth  was  called 
mundus,  a  word  which  in  the  ancient  tongue  stood  for  the 
region  of  the  manes.  From  this  same  place,  according  to 
the  tradition,  the  souls  of  the  dead  escaped  three  times  in 
the  year,  once  more  for  a  moment  to  behold  the  light. 
Thus  the  souls  of  the  ancestors  consecrate  the  site  of  the 
new  city.  Upon  this  sacred  spot,  Romulus  builds  an 
altar  and  kindles  a  fire  ;  and  around  this  altar,  as  around 
the  family  hearth,  the  city  is  to  grow  up.  Romulus 
makes  a  furrow,  which  marks  the  site,  using  for  the 
purpose  a   copper  ploughshare.      His    plough    is    drawn 


414    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

by  a  white  bull  and  a  white  cow.  Romulus,  with  head 
veiled,  according  to  priestly  custom,  himself  guides  the 
plough,  chanting  prayers  as  he  goes.  The  clods  of  earth 
turned  up  by  the  ploughshare,  are  thrown  within  the 
enclosure,  so  that  no  particle  of  the  sacred  soil  should  be 
left  to  the  foreigner.  The  boundary  line  thus  drawn  is 
inviolable  ;  it  may  not  be  crossed  either  by  stranger  or 
citizen.  To  jump  over  this  little  furrow  is  an  act  of 
sacrilege.  Roman  tradition  says  that  the  brother  of  the 
founder  committed  this  sacrilege  and  paid  for  it  with  his 
life.  For  entrance  and  egress,  the  furrow  is  interrupted 
at  various  points,  Romulus  having  lifted  the  ploughshare 
over  them.  These  breaks  are  called  portce,  and  are  the 
gates  of  the  city.  Upon  the  sacred  furrow,  or  a  little 
behind  it,  the  walls  are  reared.  These  also  are  sacred. 
They  may  not  be  touched,  even  for  repair,  without  permis- 
sion from  the  priest.  On  either  side  of  the  wall  a  space 
of  a  few  feet  is  set  apart  as  sacred  soil.  This  is  called 
pomarium.  The  plough  may  not  pass  over  it,  nor  may 
it  be  used  for  building. 

"Such,  according  to  abundant  testimony,  was  the  cere- 
mony of  the  foundation  of  Rome.  It  was  celebrated  ever}' 
year  throughout  antiquity  on  the  anniversary  known  as 
the  natal  day  of  Rome."  ^ 

The  city  thus  founded  was  truly  a  temple,  and  the 
fatherland  a  divine  collective  being,  uniting  earth  with 
the  sombre  realm  of  shades.  As  the  city  was  the  family 
magnified,  so  the  family  retained  all  the  features  of  the 
Roman  city.  Within  the  house,  as  we  have  seen,  the 
hearth,  beneath  which  the  ashes  of  the  fathers  had  been 
interred  in  primitive  times,  was  regarded  as  the  family 
altar.  It  was  placed  under  the  protection  of  the  manes. 
The  penates  were  worshipped  in  the  atrium,  where  hung 
the  portraits  of  the  ancestors. 

The  great  solemnity  of  family  life  was  the  day  of  burial. 
Behind  the  dead  walked  all  the  relations,  their  faces 
covered  with  masks  more  or  less  resembling  the  illustrious 
ancestors,  whose  memory  recalled  eminent  services  ren- 
dered to  the  country.     Thus  the  family  gathered  around  it, 

'Fustel  de  Coulanges,  "La  cite  antique," pp.  159 — 160, 


DECLINE  OF  A  NCIEN7  PA  GA  NISM.  4 1 5 

in  the  funeral  ceremony,  all  its  past,  all  its  glory,  all  that 
it  revered.  Upon  the  tomb  it  plac  J  these  words:  Dci 
manes,  thus  proclaiming  the  glorification  of  those  whom 
it  mourned.  These  simple  words,  everywhere  repeated, 
were  a  sort  of  attestation  of  the  immortality  of  the  family 
and  above  all  of  the  fatherland. 

The  whole  constitution  of  the  family  hinged  on  this 
great  idea  of  its  perpetuity,  as  contrasted  with  the 
ephemeral  life  of  the  individual.  It  was  in  order  to  assure 
this  perpetuity  that  the  right  of  inheritance  was  limited  to 
the  male  members  of  the  family;  t:ie  women  were  not 
even  recognised  in  the  family  relationship.^  The  power 
of  the  father  was  unduly  great,  but  this  was  only  from 
excessive  care  to  prevent  the  intermingling  of  families. 
The  father  alone  presided  over  the  sacrifices  in  the 
house. 

The  importance  attached  to  the  idea  of  the  fatherland, 
enhanced  the  majesty  of  the  law,  the  administration  of 
which  was  the  special  province  of  the  State.  Undoubtedly, 
Roman  law  was  sometimes  hard,  especially  on  minors, 
on  women,  foreigners  and  slaves.  It  was  only  by  slow 
degrees  that  it  became  more  tolerant,  and  it  must  be 
confessed  that  in  the  process  it  lost  much  of  its  original 
vigour  and  austerity.  Its  great  function  was  still  to 
watch  over  the  Roman  city.  The  statue  of  Law  was 
worshipped  in  the  open  Forum,  and  near  it  was  the  image 
of  plighted  Faith,  the  only  sufficient  sanction  of  the  social 
bond.  The  Roman  family  long  retained  its  purit}'. 
Marriage  was  held  in  honour  ;  divorce  was  rare.  The 
social  atmosphere  was  morally  healthy,  if  somewhat  severe. 
One  thing  is  certain  :  that  nothing  did  more  to  animate 
this  valiant  race  to  victorious  conflict  and  indomitable  re- 
sistance in  perilous  times,  than  the  worship  of  the  great 
fatherland,  which  bound  together  the  present  and  the 
past,  and  the  vision  of  the  glorious  army  of  the  departed, 
whose  manes  encompassed  its  legions  and  rendered  them 
invincible.  To  borrow  a  Scripture  figure,  it  ran  its  race, 
cheered  on  by  a  great  cloud  of  witnesses. 

The  religious  festivals  were  for  the  most  part  associated 

'  Fustel  de  Coulanges,  "La  cite  antique,"  p.  85. 


4i6     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

with  the  agricultural  or  warlike  pursuits  which  formed 
the  staple  of  Roman  life,  and  they  were  mainly  designed 
to  perpetuate  the  great  memories  of  the  nation's  history. 
Benjamin  Constant,  in  his  "  Polytheisme  romain,"  well 
says :  "  All  the  Roman  mythology  was  not  only  moral 
but  historic  ;  every  temple,  every  statue,  every  festival 
recalled  to  the  Romans  some  perils  from  which  the  gods 
had  saved  Rome,  some  calamity  by  them  averted,  some 
victory  won  through  their  watchful  care.  .  .  .  Each  god 
took  some  virtue  under  his  or  her  special  protection. 
Jupiter  inspired  courage ;  Venus  conjugal  fidelity,  and 
the  wisest  of  Roman  matrons  was  chosen  to  inaugurate 
her  image  ;  Neptune  presided  over  prudent  resolutions  ; 
Hercules  over  inviolable  vows.  Every  event  in  the 
national  history  assumed  a  mythologic  form.  Juno  Sospita 
(or  the  saving  goddess),  was  worshipped  because  she  had 
given  the  Romans  a  glorious  victory  over  the  Gauls  ; 
Jupiter  Stator  had  stopped  them  in  their  flight;  Jupiter 
Pistor  (the  baker)  had  suggested  to  the  Romans  when 
besieged  by  the  Gauls,  that  they  should  throw  loaves  of 
bread  among  the  enemies,  to  make  them  believ'e  there 
was  an  abundance  of  provision  in  the  city,  and  so  cause 
their  to  give  up  the  siege ;  Castor  and  Pollux  had  fought 
for  them.  Jupiter  Latialis  had  presided  over  the  union 
of  all  the  Latin  peoples.  .  .  .  The  name /•o;//'?^  came  from 
the  wooden  bridge  thrown  by  Ancus  Martins  over  the 
Tiber,  the  repairing  and  keeping  of  which  was  entrusted 
entirely  to  the  priests."^ 

Such  was  the  religion  of  Rome  in  the  great  days  of  the 
Republic — a  religion  essentially  earthly  and  political  and 
consequently  little  adapted  to  quicken  the  deeper  aspira- 
tions of  the  soul,  or  to  awaken  in  the  conscience  that 
holy  dissatisfaction,  which  would  lead  it  to  seek  something 
higher  and  better  than  it  had  yet  either  attained  or  con- 
ceived. The  steadfast  faith  in  immortality  was  neverthe- 
less a  salutary  counterpoise  to  this  proud  nationalism. 

A  great  change  passed  upon  the  constitution  and  the 
spirit  of  the  Roman  people,  from  the  time  when,  having 
conquered  Carthage    and   become   master   of  Italy,  it  no 

'  Benjamin  Constant,  "  Le  Polytheisme  romain,"  Book  I.  c.  v. 


DECLINE  OF    ANCIENT  PAGANISM.  417 

longer  found  any  obstacle  in  the  way  of  its  ambition.  The 
I  spoils  of  the  newly  conquered  provinces  brought  an  afflux 
of  wealth  to  Rome ;  the  ancient  simplicity  of  manners 
'  disappeared,  and  was  succeeded  by  ostentatious  display. 
The  middle  class  from  which  were  drawn  the  heroic 
legions  which  had  made  Rome  the  conqueror  of  the 
world,  began  to  disappear.  In  its  place  arose  a  corrupt 
plutocracy,  and  a  crowd  of  turbulent  and  imperious 
beggars  ready  to  sell  themselves  to  the  highest  bidder. 

The  conquest  of  Greece,  effected  146  b.c,  did  more 
than  any  other  event  to  hasten  the  decomposition  of 
ancient  society.  The  contact  of  two  civilisations,  so 
diverse,  was  equally  fatal  to  both,  because  each  contributed 
its  own  quota  of  corruption.  The  Roman  kept  his  stern- 
ness but  without  his  primitive  simplicity;  he  had  become 
greedy  of  wealth  and  pleasure.  Suddenly  transported 
into  the  midst  of  the  most  marvellous  art-treasures  of  the 
world,  he  was  as  though  intoxicated ;  and  without  any  true 
appreciation  of  their  worth,  he  was  eager  to  appropriate 
them.  But  the  culture  of  Greece  was  less  easy  to  master 
than  her  provinces.  The  precious  marbles  might  be 
transferred  to  Rome,  but  not  the  graceful  art  that  chiselled 
them.  It  was  far  more  easy  to  borrow  her  vices  and 
to  imbibe  the  doctrines  which  justified  them,  such  as  those 
of  Epicurus  and  the  sceptics.  Greece  played  in  relation  to 
Rome,  the  part  of  an  intelligent  slave,  who  seeks  to  govern 
her  master  by  flattering  his  passions.  She  degraded 
herself  more  and  more  in  this  unworthy  attempt,  and 
remained  none  the  less  the  slave  of  a  tyrant  who  could 
never  rise  to  her  level.  The  Roman  had  a  way  of  repeat- 
ing the  lesson  he  had  caught  from  his  Greek  slave,  but 
repeating  it  in  such  a  way  as  completely  to  change  its 
nature.  The  poetic  mythology  of  Greece,  transplanted  to 
Ropie,  lost  all  its  ideal  character.  It  became  materialistic, 
and  its  whole  spirit  was  changed.  We  shall  see  how 
very  low  hc.manism  sank  in  the  following  period. 

Ennius  and  Livius  Andronicus  essay  to  give  us  in 
Roman  literature  a  copy  of  the  Greek ;  but  their  hand  is 
too  heavy  to  reproduce  the  fresh  and  gracious  colouring 
of  the  original.  The  genius  of  Rome  only  shines  at  this 
period  in  the  domain  of  comedy,  with  Plautus  and  Terence 

27 


41 8     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

Satire  alone  seems  to  flourish  in  this  intermediate  phase, 
when  new  customs  come  into  conflict  with  old  national 
traditions.  Greek  artists  flock  into  Rome,  bringing  with 
them  the  peculiar  elegance  and  charm  of  their  manner  ; 
but  they  have  to  work  for  the  oppressors  of  their  father- 
land, hence  they  have  lost  their  highest  inspiration.  The 
radiance  of  the  world's  great  art-era  still  lingers  about 
their  works  nevertheless.  Rome  is  embellished  by  them 
and  their  disciples ;  and  the  march  of  luxury  goes  on. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE  PAGAN  WORLD  AT  THE  COMING  OF  CHRIST.' 

§  I. — Religion  under  Augustus. 

IN  the  rapid  glance  we  propose  now  to  take  at  the 
pagan  world  at  the  coming  of  Christ,  we  shall  not 
restrict  ourselves  wholly  to  the  century  in  which  He 
appeared.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  peculiar 
moral  and  religious  condition  which  characterised  the 
first  century  of  the  Christian  era,  began  in  the  preceding 
period  of  the  Roman  Republic,  and  was  prolonged  into 
the  second  century,  that  is  to  say  up  to  the  commence- 
ment of  the  great  contest  between  the  new  religion  and 
Greco-Roman  paganism. 

The  salient  feature  of  this  very  remarkable  period  is 
the  contrast  between  a  brilliant  state  of  civilisation,  and 
an  ever-deepening  deterioration  of  political,  moral,  social, 
and  family  life.  On  the  one  hand  we  observe  a  certain 
softening  of  manners  ;  on  the  other,  new  and  abomin- 
able moral  pollution.  On  the  one  hand,  a  purification  of 
the  human  ideal ;  on  the  other,  a  ruthless  despotism 
changing  the  character  of  class-relations  through  every 
grade  of  life.  On  the  one  hand,  the  development  of 
a  noble  philosophy,  not  merely  theoretical  but  practical 
in  its  aims;  en  the  other,  the  demonstration  of  its  utter 
failure,  as  given  by  the  inconsistencies  of  its  best  repre- 
sentatives. On  the  one  hand,  in  the  religious  sphere, 
an  ever-growing  scepticism ;    on  the  other,  a  craving  so 


'  For  the  close  of  the  Roman  Republic,  sei  Mommsen,  "  History  of 
Rome;"'  D.truy,  "  Histoire  des  Romains,"  vol.  .ii. ;  Boissier,  "La  religion 
sous  Augufcte,"  vol.  i. ;  Havet,  "  Origine  du  Christianisme,"  vol.  ii.; 
Renan,  "  Lcs  Apotres,  ch.  x.  The  great  authority  is  of  course  the  literature 
of  the  period,  and  to  this  we  shall  constantly  refer. 


420    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 


strong  and  universal  to  believe  something,  that  any  alien 
religion,  any  base  superstition,  could  find  a  following. 

In  every  sphere  of  life  there  is  a  perception  and  appre- 
ciation of  the  good,  the  true,  the  progressive;  but  as 
soon  as  the  hand  is  put  out  to  grasp  the  shining  benison 
it  vanishes,  only  leaving  on  the  horizon  a  lingering  pro- 
phetic gleam.  In  this  twilight  hour,  when  lights  and 
shadows  so  strangely  cross  and  blend,  the  pagan  world 
might  well  take  as  its  motto  the  deep  saying  of  one  of  its 
representatives  :   Video  meliora,  deteriora  sequor. 

"  The  good  seems  at  times  quite  clear,  quite  close  to 
me.  I  am  just  about  to  grasp  it,  when  lo,  my  hands  close 
upon  emptiness,  and  having  failed  to  find  the  better,  I 
fall  back  into  the  worse."  Thus  is  fostered  a  longing, 
becoming  ever  more  intense,  after  a  true  renovation, 
a  longing  full  of  sadness  that  expresses  itself  in  unut- 
terable groanings,  at  least  in  those  noble  souls  which 
have  not  allowed  the  floods  of  sensuality  to  quench  the 
sacred  fire  within.  They  cannot  calmly  accept  the  sense 
of  failure  in  their  lives ;  it  only  makes  them  the  more 
eager  for  the  mysterious  deliverance,  of  which  they  find 
the  sure  intuition  in  their  own  hearts. 

We  have  now  reached  the  concluding  term  of  this  long 
quest  of  the  unknown  God,  so  unremittingly  pursued  by 
the  heathen  world. 

The  vastness  of  the  Roman  dominion,  which  at  this 
time  extended  to  the  extreme  East,  did  much  to  confirm 
this  attitude  of  mind.  The  religious  ideas  which  had 
gained  the  ascendancy  in  distant  countries,  ceased  to  be 
localised,  and  became  diffused  generally  in  the  atmosphere. 
The  Roman  conquest  produced  a  synthesis  of  all  gods, 
and  of  all  beliefs  ;  it  created  a  sort  of  Pagan  universalism, 
in  which  the  elements  of  all  the  national  religions  were 
indistinguishably  blended. 

Strange  to  say,  this  decomposition  of  the  old  national 
religions  was  greatly  hastened  by  the  '  repeated  and 
vigorous  attempts  made  by  the  political  power  to  maintain 
and  re-establish  them.  As  it  was  utterly  incompetent  to 
regenerate  the  heart,  this  attempt  to  enforce  beliefs  by 
statecraft  only  made  them  totter  the  more  rapidly  to 
their  fall,  since  it  brought  out  in  glaring  relief  the  con- 


THE  PAGAN  WORLD  AT  CHRIST S  COMING.    421 

tradiction  between  the  semblance  and  the  reality,  between 
the  official  religion  and  the  true  state  of  the  heart  and  life. 
This  contradiction  was  quickly  demonstrated  in  the  sphere 
of  morals.  It  was  found  no  more  possible  to  make  men 
moral  by  decree,  than  to  restore  religion  by  the  arm  of 
the  State. 

We  have  seen  how  rude  a  shock  the  old  Roman 
religion  in  its  stern  simplicity,  received  on  its  first  con- 
tact with  Greek  civilisation,  which  had  itself  outlived  its 
age  of  faith  and  idealism.  At  that  time  its  governing 
classes,  conscious  themselves  of  the  inroads  of  scepticism, 
insisted  all  the  more  upon  the  necessity  of  maintaining 
by  authority  the  national  religion,  openly  declaring,  with 
Polybius,  that  the  strange  and  complicated  rites  of  the 
Roman  cultus  had  only  been  invented  for  the  populace. 
The  great  pontiff  Quintus  Scaevola  said  ninety  years 
before  Christ,  that  there  were  two  religions  ;  the  one 
intelligent  and  philosophical,  the  other  unintelligent  and 
traditional ;  the  one  not  adapted  to  the  State,  the  other 
the  State  religion,  and  bound  to  remain  in  the  form  in 
which  tradition  had  cast  it.  The  substance  of  Varro's 
teaching  in  his  satirical  commentaries  on  religion  is,  that 
the  State  is  older  than  its  gods,  as  the  painter  is  older 
than  his  picture.  If  it  had  to  be  made  over  again  it 
might  be  done  better,  but  since  religion  exists  as  an 
institution,  it  behoves  every  good  citizen  to  confess  and 
worship  the  gods  of  his  country,  and  it  is  especially 
binding  on  men  of  low  degree  to  pay  them  homage. 
Mommsen  truly  observes  that  "  the  State  religion  of 
Rome  was  on  all  sides  recognised  as  an  institution  of 
political  convenience,  and  in  this  aspect  was  indeed  indis- 
pensable, because  it  was  just  as  impossible  to  construct 
the  State  wholly  without  religious  elements,  as  to  discover 
any  new  State  religion  adapted  to  form  a  substitute  for 
the  old  ;  but  public  opinion  maintained  an  attitude  essen- 
tially indifferent  to  it."  ^ 

Tne  great  attempt  to  restore  religion  by  means  of  the 
civil  power  was  made  by  Augustus.  This  was  the  leading 
idea  of  his  policy,  from  the  time  that  his  authority  was 


'  Mommsen,  "  History  of  Rome,"  vol.  i\\  Book  V.  chap.  xii.  p.  559. 


422    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

once  firmly  established.  Like  the  framer  of  the  Concordat 
of  1802,  he  set  himself  to  restore  the  disused  altars,  from 
a  conviction  that  this  was  the  surest  means  to  confirm 
his  own  power,  and  to  give  coherence  to  his  system  of 
government.  He  ostentatiously  displayed  on  all  occa- 
sions his  respect  for  religion,  rebuilt  the  temples  and 
restored  the  ancient  usages.  As  consul  he  caused 
eighty-six  temples  to  be  rebuilt.  At  the  same  time  he 
instituted  new  modes  of  worship  Vv^hich  were  only  in 
truth  a  reproduction  of  the  old  under  new  names.  Such 
was  the  worship  of  Venus  Victrix,  of  Mars  Ultor,  "  the 
Avenger,"  and  of  Apollo  Palatinus.  In  order  to  give 
splendour  to  this  restoration  of  religion,  he  caused  it  to  be 
accompanied  by  the  repetition,  with  extraordinary  pomp, 
of  the  secular  games,  which  had  been  instituted  under 
the  Republic  in  order  to  avert  by  special  ceremonials, 
a  threatened  visitation  of  the  plague.  The  whole  of 
Augustus'  religious  policy  is  summ^ed  up  in  this  saying  of 
Maecenas :  "  Honour  the  gods  according  to  national 
custom  :  and  compel  others  to  honour  them  likewise."^ 
Among  the  many  gods  whose  worship  he  thus  established, 
Augustus  did  not  forget  himself,  though  he  used  many 
precautions  in  preparing  his  own  apotheosis.  It  was  from 
the  priestly  language  that  he  borrowed  the  name  of 
Augustus,  of  which  Virgil  says  that  he  who  bears  it 
becomes  a  sort  of  present  and  corporeal  god. 

In  the  Year  of  Rome  724,  Augustus  obtained  the  right 
to  dispose  at  his  pleasure  of  the  priesthood.  The  senate 
had  appointed  solemn  prayers  to  be  offered  for  him 
throughout  the  empire  on  January  3rd.  Soon  it  seemed 
not  enough  to  pray  for  him  ;  prayers  were  offered  to  him 
instead.  Temples  were  raised  to  him  and  to  the  goddess 
of  Rome.  The  Emperor  feigned  some  scruple  about 
allowing  these  temples  to  himself  to  be  built  in  the  capital 
of  the  empire,  but  he  sanctioned  everywhere  the  adoration 
of  the  imperial  Lares,  thus  assuming  the  character  of  those 
family  deities  so  dear  to  the  Romans,  as  nearer  to  them 
than  any  others.  In  the  municipal  provinces,  brother- 
hoods  were    multiplied    under    the    name   of  Augustuli, 

'  See  M.  Boissier  on  "  La  religion  romaine  sous  Auguste, '  vol.  i. 
Book  I. 


THE  PAGAN  WORLD  AT  CHRIST'S  COMING.    4231 

and  these,  in  their  public  feasts,  worshipped  the  genius  of 
the  Emperor.  On  the  death  of  Augustus,  this  worship  of 
the  Emperor  was  estabhshed  by  a  decree  of  the  senate. 
This  apotheosis  of  the  Caesars  did  more  than  anything 
else  to  dishonour  and  discredit  the  national  religion, 
although  the  profanation  grew  directly  out  of  one  of  the 
fundamental  ideas  of  the  old  religion,  which  had  always 
deified  the  dead  and  venerated  ancestors  as  tutelary 
gods.^ 

It  may  be  observed  that  the  very  eagerness  of  Augustus, 
manifested  in  all  his  domestic  policy,  to  derive  advantage 
for  himself  from  the  restoration  of  religion,  was  a  hin- 
drance to  his  success.  A  certain  section  of  the  Roman 
aristocracy,  disheartened  by  national  calamities  and  by 
the  gloomy  aspect  of  things,  was  indeed  ready  to  fall 
back  faute  de  micax,  upon  the  past ;  just  as  after  the 
French  Revolution  the  nation  forsook  Voltaire  for  the 
^^ genie  dn  Cliristianisrue."  But  the  base  adulation  of  him- 
self, which  Augustus  encouraged,  compromised  his  at- 
tempted religious  renovation,  by  making  its  political 
character  too  evident.  It  was  well-known  moreover  by 
his  associates,  that  he  did  not  truly  believe  in  the  old 
gods.  Lastly,  the  contradiction  was  too  flagrant  between 
his  private  life  and  the  moral  reforms  which  he  enforced 
by  edict,  the  senate  having  committed  to  him  the  control 
of  public  morals.  The  monarch  who  issued  edicts  against 
adultery,  himself  lived  in  the  practice  of  it.  He  divided 
his  favours  between  the  wives  of  Maecenas  and  of  Livy. 
The  gates  of  hi.s  palace  stood  open,  it  was  well-known, 
to  women  of  ill  fame.  Dion  Cassius  observes  that  neither 
of  the  consuls  who  gave  their  names  to  the  law  agamst 
celibacy,  was  married.  Horace,  the  pontifical  poet  of  the 
secular  games,  was  well-known  to  be  an  Epicurean.  Ovid 
spoke  as  a  true  representative  of  the  libertines  and  avowed 
sceptics  associated  in  the  religious  reforms  of  Augustus, 
when  looking  back  on  his  erotic  poems,  as  he  was  about 
to  begin  his  "  Fasti "  (a  sort  of  poetical  Roman  calendar, 
with  its  appropriate  festivals  and  mythology),  he  exclaimed  : 
"  Who  would  have  thought  that  I  should  ever  come  to 
this  ! " 

'  Boissier,  "  La  religion  romaine  sous  Auguste,"  i.   p.  144. 


424     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

It  is  easy  to  forecast  the  future  of  a  religious  restoration 
iilie  this,  which  was  but  a  gigantic  poHtical  fraud. 

§  II. — Social  and  Moral  Condition  of  the  Greco- 
Roman  World  at  this  Period. 

The  social  and  moral  condition  of  the  Roman  world  at 
this  period,  is  the  best  proof  of  the  fallacy  of  the  so- 
called  restoration  of  religion.  But  the  aspirations  after  a 
higher  life  were  not  thus  to  be  stultified.  Noble  souls 
could  but  be  shocked  and  saddened  by  the  grovelling 
realities  of  existence  in  the  imperial  city,  the  focus  of  all 
the  light  of  the  past,  the  inheritor  of  all  the  culture  of 
the  ancient  world.  Their  aspirations  were  fostered  alike 
by  the  evil  and  the  good,  which  presented  themselves 
side  by  side  in  such  striking  contrast,  through  every  grade 
of  social  life  in  the  city. 

For  the  present,  we  shall  only  describe  in  broad  out- 
line, the  state  of  the  Roman  world  at  the  time  of  which 
we  speak,  not  dwelling  in  any  detail  on  the  moral  con- 
dition of  pagan  society,  when  it  was  first  brought  into 
contact  with  Christianity. 

The  life  of  Rome  at  the  close  of  the  Republic  and  the 
commencement  of  the  Empire  was  one  of  great  luxury 
and  splendour.  The  houses,  Seneca  tells  us,  were  gorgeous 
with  gilding;  crowds  of  slaves  sumptuously  arrayed, 
moved  about  the  streets ;  wealth  was  displayed  even  in 
holes  and  corners.^  The  public  edifies  were  still  more 
splendid  than  the  private  dwellings.  In  each  of  the 
fourteen  wards  of  Rome,  temples  and  aqueducts  abounded. 
There  were  hundreds  of  statues  in  the  public  squares. 
The  Forum  was  surrounded  with  two  porticoes  of 
columns  richly  sculptured,  beneath  which  the  people 
paraded  their  dolce  far  niente.  The  public  baths  were 
adorned  with  pictures  and  valuable  mosaics,  and  paved 
with  marbles  from  Alexandria.  Hot  and  cold  water  was 
supplied  through  silver  taps.^  The  circuses  were  equally 
magnificent.     Caligula  went  so  far  as  to  have  the  floors 

'  "Divitiis  per  omnes  angulos  dissipatis."  Seneca,  "De  Tranquil], 
Anim.,"  c.  i. 

*  Seneca,  Ep.,  Ixxxvi. 


THE  PAGAN  WORLD  AT  CHRIST'S  COMIXG.    42.;; 

sprinkled  with  gold  dust.^  Rome  was  emphatically  the 
royal  residence  of  the  ruling  people  of  the  world.  The 
imperial  city  gave  forth,  as  Pliny  says,  so  brilliant  a 
light,  that  it  was  like  another  sun  risen  upon  the  earth. 
Life  there  was  one  succession  of  festivities,  alternating 
between  the  Campus  Martius,  the  Circus  and  the  Forum. 

This  life  of  pleasure  was,  however,  strangely  precarious. 
The  people  of  Rome  lived,  not  by  work,  but  by  doles. 
All  arts,  all  trades  were  given  up  to  slaves  ;  while  the 
slave  himself  was  fed  and  amused  by  his  master.  Rome 
drew  its  sustenance  from  Egypt,  and  its  life,  as  Tacitus 
says,  was  entrusted  to  the  chances  of  the  sea.^  The 
fortune  of  the  rich  was  heavily  taxed  and  soon  swallowed 
up  by  the  enormous  expense  of  living.  The  population 
began  to  dwindle  to  an  alarming  extent.  The  family 
spirit  disappeared  ;  men  were  no  longer  willing  to  marry. 
Italy  which  has  now  a  population  of  17,000,000,  had  then 
at  the  most  only  10,000,000.  Thus  even  from  an  external 
point  of  view,  this  much  admired  civilisation  was  only  a 
brilliant  cloak  concealing  national  decrepitude.  Under 
such  conditions  it  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  what  it  was 
from  a  political  and  moral  standpoint. 

Historians  who,  like  Goethe,  are  full  of  admiration  of 
the  greatness  of  the  Empire,  or  who,  like  Renan,  dwell 
laudatorily  on  its  tolerance  of  liberty  of  thought,  forget 
at  what  price  these  benefits  were  purchased.  The  imperial 
rule  was  a  terrible  fiasco  for  a  community  which  had 
sacrificed  everything  to  the  public  weal.  Slavery  gilded 
with  glory,  as  it  was  under  Augustus,  could  not  but 
appear  to  every  high-minded  citizen,  an  irreparable  mis- 
fortune, in  spite  of  all  that  was  said  of  the  majestic  peace 
of  Rome.^  From  slavery  to  meanness  there  is  but  one 
step,  and  it  was  soon  taken.  Except  during  the  short 
period  of  the  Antonines,  Rome  cringed  beneath  a  domination 

'  Suetonius,  "Caligula,"  18, 

^  "  Navibus  et  casibus,  vita  populi  Romani  permissa  est."  Tacitus, 
"Annals,"  xii.  43. 

^  Titus  Livius,  in  the  Preface  to  his  history,  says  of  Rome,  that  it  could 
neither  bear  its  ills  nor  the  remedies  that  might  have  cured  them.  Pro- 
pertius  says  :  "  1  see  Rome,  proud  Rome,  perishing  the  victim  of  her  ov*rn 
prosperity"  (iii.  I3).  Nee  se  Roma  ferens,  says  Lucan  (i.  12).  See 
Boissier,  vol.  i.  p.  241. 


426     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

that  was  at  once  ignominous,  stupid  and  cruel.  If  individual 
citizens  were  able,  by  keeping  in  prudent  and  dignified 
retirement,  to  avoid  the  degradation  of  sycophancy  for 
themselves,  they  had  nevertheless  to  look  on  at  the 
hideous  spectacle  of  the  humiliation  of  Rome,  and  to  see, 
as  Tacitus  says,  consuls,  knights,  and  senators,  girding 
on  in  hasty  and  ignoble  rivalry,  the  garb  of  the  bondsman.^ 

We  feel  as  we  read  this  stern  historian,  what  indignation, 
shame  and  bitterness  filled  the  hearts  of  those  who  had 
not  sunk  to  the  same  depth  of  servility.  Tacitus  has 
not  only  graven  in  ineffaceable  lines  the-  odious  features 
of  most  of  the  Caesars  ;  he  has  drawn  the  likeness 
of  the  degenerate  Romans  who  tolerated  them,  and  who, 
while  they  were  capr.ble  indeed  of  assassinating  them,  had 
not  the  courage  to  deal  a  deathblow  to  the  institution 
which  they  represented.  He  shows  ua  the  Romans  of 
this  time,  with  faces  white  with  terror,  ready  to  turn 
informers  or  executioners  to  save  their  own  lives,  and 
receiving  every  affront  of  the  tyrant  with  words  of  sicken- 
ing adulation. 

Nobly  as  Tacitus  vindicates  the  human  conscience,  and 
boldly  as  he  brands  the  wrong  done  to  it,  he  has  no  faith 
in  the  future.  He  has  the  soul  of  a  Scipio  in  the  Rome 
of  Nero  and  Vitellius.  He  utters  his  immortal  protest 
against  tyranny,  but  with  the  hopelessness  of  one  who 
knows  it  is  utterly  unavaihng. 

The  social  status  was  on  a  par  with  the  political.  The 
middle  classes  had  almost  disappeared.  Their  place  was 
taken  by  an  idle  multitude,  greedy  of  gross  pleasures,  and 
surrounding  the  Emperor,  whoever  he  might  be,  with 
as  many  partisans  as  he  would  make  parasites.  Their 
number  was  constantly  recruited  from  the  ranks  of  the 
slaves.  We  shall  see  presently  what  had  become  of  the 
Roman  family,  as  an  institution,  and  the  place  assigned  in 
it  to  women,  children  and  slaves.  For  the  present  we 
need  only  note  the  frightful  deterioration  of  morals  at  this 
period.  We  are  ready  to  admit,  with  M.  Renan,  that 
there  were  noble  exceptions  to  this  degradation,  due  to 
a  certain  theoretic  development  of  the  moral  and  social 

'  Tacitus,  "Annals,"  i.  7. 


THE  PAGAN  WORLD  AT  CHRIST'S  COMING.    427' 

idea.^  The  good  reached  a  higher  level  than  ever  before, 
but  they  formed  only  an  infinitesimal  minority.  They 
were  better  than  those  who  went  before  them,  but  at  the 
same  time  the  bad  were  worse,  and  they  carried  the  day.^ 
It  would  be  impossible  to  paint  in  too  glaring  colours 
the  moral  degradation  of  Rome  at  this  time.  Without 
going  into  any  detail,  we  shall  merely  indicate  what 
was  most  characteristic  of  the  age.  Those  who  desire 
to  study  closely  its  moral  infamy,  have  only  to  read  the 
pages  of  Juvenal,  the  Tacitus  of  private  life.  The  woman 
was  the  rival  of  the  man  in  licentiousness.^  Too  often 
even  patrician  women  were  so  shameless  in  their  sen- 
suality, that  not  content  with  lovers  of  their  own  rank, 
they  sought  them  among  the  lowest  of  the  people,  among 
slaves  and  gladiators.*  Sometimes  women  were  even 
seen  fighting  in  the  arena. ^  Juvenal,  in  a  striking  passage, 
pictures  for  us  in  one  stroke,  the  degradation  of  woman  in 
his  day,  when  he  describes  her  as  passing  with  a  cynical 
smile  the  altar  of  modesty.®  Clement  of  Alexandria  draws 
the  pagan  woman  with  a  more  chaste  hand,  but  the  idea 
which  he  gives  us  in  his  "  Paedagogue,"  accords  perfectly 
with  the  sixth  Satire  of  Juvenal.  Sumptuously  arrayed, 
painted,  and  bathed  in  perfumes,  she  is  not  content  to 
have  indecent  pictures  adorning  the  walls  of  her  dwelling, "^ 
she  has  them  reproduced  even  upon  her  shoes.^  She  lives 
in  a  world  of  sensuous  indulgence,  listening  to  idle  and 
foul  gossip,  taking  counsel  with  old  procuresses,  surrounded 
with  jesters  and  rare  birds.  Sometimes  she  is  borne 
through  the  town  on  a  litter,  and  repairs  to  the  public 
baths  or  to  the  shops  frequented  by  idlers.     She  passes 

'  Renan,  "  Les  Apotres,"  p.  731. 

*  It  is  this  contrast  which  M.  Havet  constantly  forgets  in  his  attempt 
to  show  that  really  Christianity  gave  the  world  nothing  new.  Even 
admitting  (which  we  are  not  prepared  to  do)  that  it  did  not  expand 
and  purify  the  moral  ideal  of  the  very  best,  it  certainly  raised  the  whole 
tone  of  society,  as  no  other  system  had  been  able  to  do. 

*  "Virorum  licentiam  aequaverunt,"     Sen. 

*  "In  extrema  plebe,"  Petron.,  "Satyr.,"  c.  126.  Tacitus,  "Annals," 
xii.  53. 

*  "  Saevit  et  ipsa  Venus."    Martial,  i.  19. 

*  Juvenal,  Satire  vi. 

'  Clement  of  Alex.,  "PaEd,"  ii.  47. 

*  Ibid.,  ii.  23. 


428     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

the  night  in  riotous  festivities  often  ending  in  drunken- 
ness. She  seems  the  very  personification  of  adultery. 
Thus  this  elegant  woman,  "girt  like  Venus  with  a  golden 
girdle  of  vice/'  hides  beneath  a  brilliant  appearance,  her 
shameless  inward  corruption,  "  like  one  of  those  Eg3'ptian 
temples,  outwardly  imposing,  but  conceahng  in  the  depths 
of  their  sanctuary,  a  hideous  thing  in  the  likeness  of  a 
god."^ 

As  to  the  vices  of  the  man,  it  would  be,  as  the  Apostle 
says,  "  a  shame  even  to  speak  of  them."  Unnatural  vice, 
that  plaguespot  of  Hellenic  paganism,  developed  itself 
in  Rome  without  let  or  hindrance.  /  classes  of  society 
were  tainted  with  it.  As  lust  is  always  associated  with 
cruelty,  so  Rome  under  the  Empire  became  a  scene  of 
debauchery  and  murder,  not  to  be  surpassed  by  any  of 
the  atrocities  of  the  old  nature-religions.  Delight  in 
bloodshed  is  characteristic  of  the  whole  imperial  era. 
Hence  the  popularity  of  the  games  in  the  Circus,  in  which 
the  blood  of  the  gladiators  flowed  in  torrents.  Nor  could 
these  victims  suffice  ;  soldiers  and  even  centurions  were 
forced  into  the  arena.^  The  sight  of  death  seemed  to 
afford  the  highest  pleasure.  The  writers  of  the  day 
openly  recognise  the  corrupting  influence  of  the  Circus.^ 
"In  the  Circus,"  says  Seneca,  "there  are  as  many  vices 
as  men.  It  is  a  den  of  iniquity.  That  which  is  vile  is 
made  so  familiar  to  the  people,  and  so  takes  possession  of 
all  hearts,  that  innocence  is  not  only  rare,  it  is  extinct."* 

There  is  one  feature  of  the  corruption  of  the  time  which 
deserves  to  be  noted,  namely  a  feverish  unrest ;  revealing 
the  profound  moral  misery  of  men.  Benjamin  Constant 
says  truly  that  earth  cut  off  from  heaven,  seems  to  man 
a  prison,  and  that  he  is  for  ever  beating  his  head  against 
the  bars  of  his  cell.^  This  thought,  suggested  by  the 
spectacle  of  imperial  Rome,  explains  the  tendency — then 
so  general — to  carry  everything  to  excess,  both  in  lust 
and  in  luxury.     When  the  immortal  soul  has  lost  the  faith 

>  "  Psed.,"  iii.  2,  4. 

*  Tacitus,  "  Annals,"  xiii.  44. 

*  Pliny  the  Younger,  "Epist.,"  xv.  22. 

*  "  Ut  innocentia  non  rara,  sed  nulla  sit."    Seneca,  "  De  Ira,"  ii.  8. 

*  Benjamin  Constant,   "  Du  polytheisme  remain," 


THE  PAGAN  WORLD  AT  CHRIST'S  COMING.    429 

which  opens  to  it  the  higher  and  ideal  world,  it  goes  in 
quest  of  the  infinite  in  this  lower  sphere,  where  it  is  not 
to  be  found.  It  seeks  it  in  the  life  of  the  senses,  and 
failing  to  find  it  by  legitimate  means,  it  has  recourse  to 
the  illegitimate  and  abnormal.  Hence  a  false  and  exces- 
sive refinement ;  a  blending  of  the  pseudo-sublime  and 
the  bizarre  in  amusement  and  in  art,  an  incessant  aiming 
at  the  impossible  in  material  things.  "  It  is  the  aim  of 
luxury,"  says  Seneca,  "  to  triumph  over  the  impossible, 
and  not  only  to  eschew  what  is  reasonable,  but  to  attempt 
the  exact  opposite.  Is  it  not  contrary  to  nature  to  desire 
to  have  roses  in  the  midst  of  winter,  and  to  plant  fruit 
trees  on  the  top  of  towers  ?  Is  it  not  contrary  to  nature 
to  lay  the  foundations  of  public  baths  in  the  middle  of 
the  sea  ? "  ^  Heliogabalus  v/as  actuated  by  the  same 
craving  for  the  impossible  when  he  would  have  serv'ed 
upon  his  table,  dishes  of  the  tongues  of  peacocks  and 
nightingales  ;  when  he  insisted  on  having  snow-covered 
mountains  in  the  midst  of  green  gardens,  and  on 
changing  night  into  day  in  his  palaces.'"^  Suetonius  says 
of  Caligula,  that  he  desired  nothing  so  much  as  that  which 
he  was  told  was  impracticable,  such  as  the  construction 
of  dykes  in  the  most  dangerous  seas,  the  lowering  of 
mountains  and  raising  of  plains.^  The  Roman  world  was 
at  heart  consumed  with  enmii.  "  It  was,"  says  Seneca 
again,  "  like  the  Homeric  hero  who  now  stood,  now  sat 
in  the  restlessness  of  disease.  It  was  shaken  with  the 
agitation  of  a  soul  no  longer  master  of  itself."*  This 
old  world  was  suffering  not  so  much  from  the  shocks  it 
had  undergone,  as  from  a  boundless  satiety  and  weari- 
ness of  life.  Like  all  blase  souls,  it  said  with  Petronius, 
"  I  care  not  to  secure  at  once  the  object  of  my  desires. 
The  birds  of  Africa  please  me,  because  they  are  not 
easy  to  obtain."  ^  This  disease  is  well  described  by 
Seneca  as  "  vi'fce  communis  fasiidium."  ^ 

'  "Hoc  est  luxurise  propositum  gaudere  perversis."    Sen.,  Epist.  cxxii. 

^  Histor.  August.  Heliogab,  xix. 

^  "Nihil  tam  efficere  concupiscebat  quam  quod  posse  effici  negaretur." 
Suet.,  Calig.,  xxxvii. 

''  Seneca,   "  De  Tranquill.  Anim.,"  ii.  c.  17. 

*  "  Quod  non  sunt  faciles."     Petron.,  Satyr. 

*  Seneca,  Ep.  cxxxii. 


4^0    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

This  is  the  bitterness  which  as  Lucretius  has  said,  flows 
from  the  very  fountain  of  pleasures.-'  Satiated  with  all 
that  he  has  seen,  as  well  as  with  all  that  he  possesses, 
the  voluptuary  exclaims  scornfully  :  "  For  ever  the 
same  thing  1"  ^  In  the  hope  of  discovering  some  new 
joy,  he  does  violence  to  nature.  But  monotony  and 
satiety  follow  him  still,  and  at  length  he  plunges  des- 
perately into  the  mire.  He  abandons  himself  to  the  most 
hideous  gluttony,  and  lays  earth  and  sea  under  tribute  to 
supply  his  groaning  table.  He  seeks  the  remedy  in  the 
very  exaggeration  of  the  evil.  Only  crime  is  sufficiently 
thrilling  to  charm  away  his  ennui,  and  as  Tacitus  says,  the 
greater  the  infamy,  the  wilder  the  delight.^  The  same 
writer  describes  a  suicide,  the  sole  motive  of  which  was 
disgust  of  living  in  such  times.* 

This  suicide  of  a  citizen  was  typical  of  the  moral  suicide 
of  a  world.  Rome,  to  borrow  the  figure  of  an  unknown 
author,  was  like  a  gladiator  who,  after  having  overcome 
all  his  adversaries,  turns  his  sword  at  last  against  himself 
Thus  had  vanished  that  calm,  that  ataraxia  of  the  ancient 
world,  on  which  Greece  had  so  prided  herself  The  pagan 
life  began  in  a  poetic  feast,  to  the  tones  of  inspired  lyres, 
and  ended  in  an  orgy.  The  feeling  was  abroad  that  it  was 
an  age  of  death.  Juvenal  declares  that  the  times  in  which 
he  lives  are  worse  than  the  iron  age,  and  he  exclaims  in 
accents  of  despair  :  "  The  earth  no  longer  brings  forth 
any  but  bad  m.en  and  cowards.  Hence  God,  whoever  he 
is,  looks  down,  laughs  at  them  and  hates  them."  ^ 

Literature,  after  its  golden  age  under  Augustus,  faith- 
fully reproduces  this  mielancholy  state  of  society.  Seneca 
(Epist.  cxiv.)  eloquently  complains  of  the  corruption  of 
language,  the  inevitable  result,  as  he  deems,  of  the  corrup- 
tion of  morals.  This  lowering  of  the  tone  of  literature 
certainly  did  not  arise  from  any  lack  of  interest  m  it,  for 
it  was  never  more  sought  after.  "It  is  characteristic  of 
an  effete  and  sterile  age,"  says  Pliny  the  Younger,  "  to 

'  Lucretius,  iv.  v.  33. 

*  "  Quousque  eadeni."     Sen.,  De  Tranquill.  Anim.,  ii. 

*  "Magnitude  infamiae  novissin.a  voluptas."  Tacitus,  Annals,  xi.  26 

*  Ibid.,  vi.  26. 

*  "  Ergo  Deus  quicumque  adspexit,  ridct  et  odet."   Juvenal,  Satire  xiv. 


THE  PAGAN  WORLD  AT  CHRIST'S  COMING.    431 

give  to  letters  an  amount  of  attention  that  increases  in 
proportion  to  the  withdrawal  from  active  life.  We  find 
our  joy  and  solace  in  letters."  ^  Thus  literature  becomes 
divorced  from  the  national  life,  and  is  regarded  merely  as 
a  jen  d esprit,  the  amusement  of  men  of  leisure.  The 
affectations  of  such  a  literary  school  can  only  be  escaped 
by  an  energetic  protest  against  the  spirit  of  the  times, 
such  as  was  made  by  Juvenal  and  Tacitus.  The  only 
way  to  achieve  real  literary  merit,  is  by  striking  out  a 
path  in  direct  opposition  to  the  accepted  canons  of  the 
day.  It  may  truly  be  said  of  all  the  great  writers  of  this 
period,  that  indignation  made  them  orators  or  poets. 
But  even  in  their  indignant  protest  they  fell  under  the 
influence  of  their  contemporaries.  The  language  they 
use,  whatever  the  purport  of  their  writings,  is  no  longer 
the  classic  tongue,  harmonious  and  stately.  Antithesis 
abounds,  and  in  every  line  the  striving  after  effect  is 
apparent.  Such  a  writer  as  Tacitus,  indeed,  rises  by 
virtue  of  his  rare  genius  and  noble  heart,  to  a  degree  of 
distinction  in  which  he  no  longer  belongs  to  one  age  or 
country,  but  is  one  of  the  recognised  organs  of  humanity 
at  large.  Pliny  the  Younger,  on  the  contrary,  is  altogether 
the  man  of  his  age.  As  a  writer  he  is  acute  and  able, 
carefully  avoiding  all  extremes,  but  not  censuring  any.^ 
He  is  as  much  a  courtier  as  a  philosopher.  His  only 
enthusiasm  is  for  literature.  He  has  his  tablets  always  in 
his  hand — at  the  chase  or  on  his  walks — that  he  may  note 
down  every  inspiration  as  it  comes,  and  fix  at  once  in  his 
words  every  happy  turn  of  thought  that  occurs  to  him. 
It  is  said  he  had  the  courage  to  go  on  reading  Livy  at 
Pompeii  during  the  great  eruption  of  Vesuvius.^ 

Eloquence  came  to  be  regarded  more  and  more  as 
merely  a  frivolous  art  of  the  rhetors  ;  and  the  fine  arts 
generally  shared  the  fate  of  literature.  Under  Augustus, 
Trajan  and  the  Antonines,  the  public  monuments  are  of 
a  noble  and  imposing  character.  But  the  various  orders 
of  architecture  are  soon  confused  ;  ornamentation  becomes 
excessive,  sculpture  colossal,  painting  obscene.     Petronius 

'  "  Est  gaudium  et  solatium  in  litteris."    Pliny  the  Younger,  Ep.,  viii.  19. 
'  Pliny  the  Younger,  Book  ix.  Ep.  xxxvi. 
*  Book  vi.  Ep.  XX. 


432    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

himself  laments  the  decay  of  the  fine  arts,  which,  forsaking 
the  nobler  traditions  of  the  past,  pander  to  the  vices  of  a 
corrupt  age.^ 

If  art,  however,  reflects  only  too  faithfully  the  pitiful 
aspects  of  imperial  Rome,  it  also  expresses  its  aspirations. 
This  is  particularly  noticeable  on  the  sarcophagi.  Here  we 
find  the  utterance  of  that  longing  for  a  palingenesis,  which 
stirred  the  heart  of  the  world  at  this  time.  The  subjects 
represented  are  taken  chiefly  from  the  mythical  stories 
of  Ceres  and  Bacchus.  The  myth  of  Eros  and  Psyche 
is  often  treated  in  an  admirable  manner.  It  is  evident 
that  the  artist  is  expressing  the  sorrow  of  the  soul 
deprived  of  the  true  love.  ^  The  Oriental  element 
becomes  more  and  more  prominent.  Everything  relating 
tD  the  worship  of  Mithra  is  a  favourite  subject  of  art. 
'  A  pantheistic  tendency  prevails  ;  the  artist  conde- 
scends to  seek  inspiration  from  India  and  Egypt.  Some- 
times he  even  stoops  to  devise  amulets  to  meet  the- 
demands  of  popular  superstition.  Thus  all  the  paradoxes 
of  this  transitional  age  are  reproduced  in  the  domain  of  art. 

§  III. — Revision  and  Philosophy  after  the  Augustan 

Age. 

It  is  easy  to  conceive  what  religion  would  be  in  such  a 
stale  of  society.  The  deterioration  which  we  have  observed 
in  the  previous  period,  becomes  more  and  more  marked. 
The  juxtaposition  of  all  the  gods  of  the  world  in  the 
Roman  pantheon,  imperils  all.  If  they  had  really 
possessed  the  intelligence  with  which  popular  superstition 
credited  them,  they  would  have  found  it  even  more 
difficult  than  did  the  augurs,  to  look  in  each  other's  faces 
without  laughing,  for  the  very  coexistence  of  so  many 
supreme  gods  was  fatal  to  the  authority  of  each.  That 
mysterious  voice,  which  according  to  the  poetic  legend 
given  by  Plutarch,  sent  far  over  the  sea  the  mournful  cry, 
"  Great  Pan  is  dead,"  was  a  voice  that  came  from  the 
depths  of  men's  hearts.  It  was  the  voice  of  an  age  of 
unbelief  proclaiming  the  end  of  paganism.^     The  oracles 

■   Petronius,  "  Satyr.,''  c.  88. 

*  See  Otfried  Miiller,  "ArchseoL,"  p.  241. 

•  Plutarch,  "De  oraculis,"  12. 


THE  PAGAN  WORLD  AT  CHRIST'S  COMING.     433 

were  silent.  "  1  hey  are  no  more  as  formerly,"  says 
Plutarch  again  ;  "  in  all  the  sacred  groves,  silence  and 
sadness  reigns."  It  would  be  a  mistake  to  attribute  this 
decline  of  flellenic  paganism  wholly  to  the  progress  of 
philosophy.  It  was  also  largely  promoted  by  the  inroads 
of  Oriental  paganism.  Two  currents  were  carrying  along 
the  minds  of  men ;  on  the  one  hand  was  the  current  of 
impiety,  on  the  other  that  of  superstition.  Let  us  try 
to  analyse  the  contrary  elements  thus  at  work. 

We  may  remark  in  the  first  place,  that  the  official, 
national  religion  no  longer  satisfied  any.  It  had  sunk  too 
low.  Humanism  issued  in  the  adoration  of  the  Emperor. 
The  official  god  "  who  with  a  nod  and  a  frown  governs 
earth  and  sea,  and  commands  peace  or  war,"  ^  is  the 
Emperor — too  often  a  mere  pseudonym  for  a  madman,  a 
play  actor,  or  a  monster,  or  perchance  all  these  in  one. 
The  god  is  sometimes  Caligula,  "  the  most  cruel  of  masters, 
after  having  been  the  most  servile  of  slaves ;  '^  sometimes 
Nero,  "  who  never  neglected  the  performance  of  a  single 
crime."  ^  To-day  it  might  be  an  imbecile  old  man  like 
Claudius,  to-morrow  a  sanguinary  buffoon  like  Commodus, 
of  whom  it  was  said  that  he  was  a  mass  of  moral  pollution.* 
The  apotheosis  of  the  imperial  god  must  not  be  deferred 
till  his  death  had  cast  its  softening  veil  over  his  frivolities. 
Augustus  had  indeed  been  allowed  to  draw  his  last 
breath,  before  the  temple  begun  for  Jupiter,^  was  dedicated 
to  the  Emperor ;  but  the  successors  of  Augustus  claimed 
to  be  worshipped  during  their  life.  Suetonius  tells  us 
that  Caligula  caused  some  of  the  finest  statues  of  antiquity 
to  be  mutilated  that  they  might  be  surmounted  by  his 
bust,  so  that  his  head  might  be  worshipped  instead  of 
the  god's. ^  This  act  of  sacrilege  faithfully  represents  the 
transformation  of  humanism,  which,  after  having  had  as 
its  symbol,  the  Jupiter  Olympus  of  Phidias,  now  accepted 
as  its  substitute,  the  hideous  bust  of  Caligula.  Such 
servile  apotheoses  were  indefinitely  multiplied  ;  the  pro- 

'   Pliny,  "  Panegyn,"  197. 
*.  Suetonius,  "  Caligula,"  10. 
'  Tacitivs,  "Annals,"  xiv.  31. 

*  "  Omni  parte  corporis  poUuta."     Hist.  Aug.,  v. 

*  Suetonius,  "  Augustus,"  60. 

*  Ibid.,  "Caligula,"  22. 

28 


434    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

vinces  deified  their  proconsuls  in  the  hope  of  being  a 
little  less  ground  down  and  pillaged  by  them.^ 

Hadrian  built  temples  to  the  beautiful  youth  Antinoiis, 
the  object  of  his  vile  passion  ;  statues  of  him  were  set  up 
in  almost  every  part  of  the  world,  and  oracles  were 
delivered  in  his  name. 

Thus  the  idea  of  deity  was  being  perpetually  lowered. 
The  old  gods,  who  in  the  golden  age  of  Greece  had 
been  invested  with  a  certain  majesty,  quickly  fell  from 
their  pristine  elevation,  and  were  placed  on  the  same  low 
level  as  the  host  of  newly  made  gods.  The  Roman 
Emperors  felt  themselves  at  home  in  this  degraded 
Olympus.  The  temple  of  Venus  at  Corinth  was  kept  by 
a  thousand  courtesans,  and  young  girls  who  valued  their 
purity  were  advised  to  avoid  the  temple  of  Jupiter.  We 
can  judge  how  low  was  the  idea  entertained  of  these 
gods,  by  the  prayers  addressed  to  them,  by  means  of 
which,  says  the  satirist  Perseus,  the  worshippers  thought 
to  purchase  their  favour  and  connivance.'^  They  dared 
not  have  uttered  aloud  the  prayers  they  thus  whispered 
in  the  ear  of  their  gods,  for  they  often  sought  the 
gratification  of  some  guilty  passion  or  the  possession 
of  unlawful  goods.  If  then  there  is  venal  justice  upon 
earth,  it  is  only  an  imitation  of  the  venality  of  the  gods.^ 
So  far  from  making  man  better,  they  only  make  him  a 
cringing  coward.*  Whenever  a  prince  commits  a  crime, 
it  may  be  safely  predicted  that  he  will  render  solemn 
thanks  to  the  gods.^  The  conduct  of  the  priests  further 
helps  to  discredit  the  gods  they  represent.  Their  morals 
are  atrocious,  and  the  people  begin  to  see  through  their 
knavish  tricks,  and  to  jeer  at  their  idle  pretensions  to 
inspiration.® 

Unbelief  and  impiety  must  needs  thrive  in  such  an 
atmosphere.  Cicero  had  already  said,  when  speaking  of 
the  old  mythology  :  "  Thinkest  thou  I  am  fool  enough  to 


'  "Templa  etiam  proconsulibus  decerni."     Suetonius,  Aug.,  52. 

*  See  the  whole  of  the  second  Satire  of  Persaeus. 

*  ApuHus,  '  Met,"  ii.  36. 

*  Ibid.,  18. 

*  Tacitus,  "Annals,"  xiv.  64. 

*  '  Doloso  vaticinandi  furore."    Patron.,  Satyr.,  c.  I. 


THE  PAGAN  WORLD  AT  CHRIST S  COMING.     ^35 

believe  in  all  these  fates  ?"^  "Who  now  believes  in 
Hippocentaurs  and  Chimeras  ?  Or  what  old  woman  is 
now  to  be  found  so  weak  and  ignorant  as  to  stand  in  fear 
of  those  infernal  monsters  which  once  so  terrified  man- 
kind?"^ Vespasian  exclaimed  in  the  moment  of  death  : 
"Woe  is  me !  I  am  about  to  become  a  god."  If  in  the  time 
of  Cicero,  unbeUef  had  run  to  such  lengths,  we  may 
imagine  what  it  became  in  the  two  following  centuries.  As 
fast  as  the  new  gods  were  made,  the  old  ones  were  done 
away  with.  It  was  but  a  step  from  the  apotheosis  of  a 
Csesar  to  the  degradation  of  an  Olympian  god.  If  it  took 
so  little  to  make  a  new  god,  might  it  not  well  be  argued 
that  the  old  ones  had  no  better  title  to  respect  ?  When 
once  the  element  of  poetry  and  idealism  was  eliminated 
from  the  old  mythology,  the  gods  were  no  longer  any- 
thing more  than  men  of  corrupt  lives. 

This  incredulity  was  not  confined  to  the  cultured  classes  ; 
it  spread  through  all  grades  of  the  people.  Whenever 
any  great  calamity  occurred,  the  people  tore  down  the 
altars  and  sometimes  even  cast  out  the  penates  upon  the 
highway.^  At  the  time  of  the  destruction  of  Pompeii  there 
arose  from  the  crowd  of  fugitives,  voices  declaring  that 
there  were  no  gods.*  Yet  through  all  this  impiety  there 
ran  an  under-current  of  superstition,  which  by  the  follow- 
ing period  had  acquired  such  force  as  to  lead  to  a  vigorous 
attempt  to  restore  ancient  paganism.  "  Superstition,"' 
says  Cicero,  "  pursues  and  presses  on  its  victim.  The 
meeting  with  a  priest,  the  sight  of  a  sacrifice,  the  hearing 
of  an  oracle,  the  flight  of  a  bird,  the  flash  of  lightning,  the 
rolling  of  thunder,  any  of  these  suffices  to  arouse  its 
terrors."^  This  superstition  often  assumes  the  character 
of  gross  fetichism.  Many  men  imagined  that  it  was 
possible  by  magic  arts,  in  some  way  to  imprison  the  gods 
in  their  statues."     We  know  to  what  a  large  extent  magic 

'  Cicero,  "  Tusc,"  i.  6. 

^  "De  Natiira  Deorum,"  ii.   2. 

'  "  Subverste  deorum  arae,  lares  a  quibusdam  in  publicum  abjecti.'' 
Suetonius,  Caligula,  v. 

■•  "  Plures  nusquam  jam  deos  ullos  interpretabantur."  Pliny  the 
Younger,  Ep.,  vi.  20. 

*  "  Instat  enim  et  urget."    Cicero,  De  Superstitione,  ii. 

•  Apuleius,  "Met,"  i.  15. 


■436    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 


arts  were  practised,  and  with  what  avidity  the  pseudo- 
marvellous  was  accepted.  The  magicians  and  priests 
took  advantage  of  this  credulity  for  their  own  ends. 
They  pretended  to  have  charms  by  which  they  could 
bring  heaven  down  to  earth  and  vice  versa,  dry  up  foun- 
tams,  evoke  the  manes  of  the  dead,  resist  the  powers  of 
the  gods,  put  out  the  stars  and  kindle  the  flames  of 
Tartarus."  ^  Thessalia  was  the  native  soil  of  magic  from 
whence  it  spread  far  and  wide.  This  devotion  to  magic 
arts  was  perfectly  natural  in  an  age  of  pantheism,  when 
the  only  deities  worshipped  were  the  forms  of  nature 
under  various  names.  It  arose  also  out  of  the  longing 
for  salvation,  for  deliverance  which,  however  dimly 
realised,  was  agitating  men's  hearts.  All  the  old  gods 
had  been  found  wanting.  Now  the  only  hope  was  in  the 
unknown,  and  chiefly  in  the  hidden  powers  of  the  mys- 
terious goddess  Isis,  who  contained  in  herself  the  principle 
of  universal  life.^ 

It  was  this  same  aspiration  after  the  unknown  which 
inclined  the  minds  of  men  to  foreign  superstitions.  Con- 
temporary writers  give  abundant  testimony  to  the  intro- 
duction of  new  forms  of  worship  which  were  the  more 
sought  after  in  proportion  to  their  strangeness.  Tacitus, 
the  representative  of  the  old  Roman  spirit,  bitterly  com- 
plains of  these  innovations.^  The  new  religions  had  a 
special  attraction  for  women  and  children.*  Strangely 
enough  it  was  in  the  direction  of  ancient  Egypt  and  the 
East  that  eyes  were  now  turned.  The  Jews,  who  up  to 
this  time  had  been  held  in  abhorrence,  now  made  many 
proselytes,  and  the  Emperors  were  obliged  to  pass  decrees 
against  them.  Claudius  positively  forbade  the  introduc- 
tion of  foreign  superstitions  and  a  decree  of  proscription 
was  passed  upon  the  Jews  in  Rome.  Such  arbitrary 
measures  were,  however,  powerless  to  check  the  current 
that  had  set  in  in  the  minds  of  men. 


'  Apuleius,  "  Met.,"  i.  49. 

^  "Never,"  says  Havet,  "did  the  religious  fever  burn  more  fiercely 
than  in  the  times  of  the  Csesars,  because  never  was  humanity  so  thoroughly 
despairing  of  itself."     Vol.  i.  p.  77. 

*  "  Externse  superstitiones  valescunt."     Tacitus,  Annals,  xi.  15. 

*  Plutarch,  "  Conjug.  Prsecept.,"  119. 


THE  PAGAN  WORLD  AT  CHRIST'S  COMING.    437 

The  worship  of  Serapis  and  of  Isis,  of  C^^bele — the  great 
mother — and  of  the  Asiatic  Aphrodite  became  general,  and 
bears  evidence  at  once  to  the  corruption  of  the  times,  and 
to  its  reHgious  necessities.  In  connection  with  t?ie 
worship  of  the  "great  mother"  were  certain  solemn 
purifications  called  Taurobolice,  which  consisted  in  sprin- 
kling the  entire  person  with  the  blood  of  a  bull.  No 
expiation  was  of  so  much  virtue  as  this,  and  he  who  had 
performed  it  might  transmit  its  benefits  to  his  neighbours, 
to  his  native  city,  and  even  to  the  Emperor  himself.^ 

This  eager  desire  to  try  new  modes  of  worship,  this 
look  of  hope  turned  towards  the  East,  and  especially 
towards  Judaea,  indicates  that  a  great  crisis  was  at  hand. 
Suetonius  says :  "  The  idea  has  spread  through  the  East, 
that  it  was  decreed  by  the  fates,  that  the  dominion  of  the 
world  was  to  pass  to  men  sprung  from  Judaea."  ^  This 
idea  must  have  travelled  into  the  East  from  the  West. 
How  else  can  v/e  account  for  this  singular  turning  of  the 
minds  of  men  at  this  time  towards  the  Jews  ?  Be  this  as 
it  may,  however,  the  same  ennui  which  led  the  Romans 
under  the  Empire  to  try  and  drown  the  sense  of  satiety 
in  the  wildest  excesses  of  luxurious  living,  also  opened 
the  way  for  these  foreign  superstitions.  With  all  their  old 
beliefs  shattered,  yet  still  athirst  for  truth,  the  Romans 
were  ready  to  knock  at  every  door,  to  try  every  fresh 
form  of  religion.  Any  one  who  brought  anything  new 
was  welcome.  Every  religious  charlatan  found  ready 
dupes.  This  explains  the  singular  fortune  of  Apol- 
lonius  of  Tyana,  of  whom  Philostratus  has  given  us  so 
full  an  account.^  He  was  born  at  the  close  of  the  first 
century,  and  was  set  up  as  the  rival  of  Jesus  Christ,  by 
some  enemies  of  the  new  religion.  His  birth  was  sup- 
posed to  have  been  miraculous  and  to  have  been  foretold 
by  Proteus.  After  studying  at  Tarsus,  ApoUonius  be- 
took himself  to  the  temple  of  ^sculapius  at  ^Egas,  where 
he  is  said  to  have  wrought  many  miracles.  Having  taken 
a  vow  of  poverty,  he  first  exhausted  all  that  Greece  had 

•  Boissier,  i.  p.  396,  et  seq. 

^  "  Percrcbuerat  Oiiente  toto  vetus  et  constans  opinio  esse  in  fatis  ut 
eo  tempore  Judaea  profecti  rerum  potirentur."     Suetonius,  Vespasian,  iv. 

•  See  Philostratus,  "  Life  of  ApoUonius  of  Tyana." 


438     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

to  teach  him,  and  then  travelled  through  Asia  Minor, 
going  from  city  to  city,  and  discoursing  like  Pythagoras, 
upon  divine  rites.  He  next  repaired  to  Bab^'lon,  and 
consult:;d  the  magi  and  Brahmans,  who  (it  is  said)  imparted 
f  to  him  some  theurgic  secrets.  He  also  visited  India  and 
disputed  with  Indian  gymnosophists.  His  return  was 
a  triumph.  He  declared  himself  to  be  a  prophet.  He 
foretold  the  plague  at  Ephesus.  In  Rome  he  restored  a 
dead  maiden  to  life.  He  subsequently  visited  Egypt,  and 
finally  was  thrown  into  prison  by  Dornitian  for  trying 
to  excite  the  provinces  of  Asia  Minor  against  the  tyrant. 
He  escaped  by  an  exercise  of  his  miraculous  powers, 
and  went  to  Ephesus,  where  he  proclaimed  the  death  of 
Domitian  at  the  very  moment  when  it  took  place.  A 
short  time  after  this  he  disappeared,  and  his  disciples  pre- 
tended that  he  had  been  translated  by  the  gods.  Through 
this  tissue  of  fables,  it  is  easy  to  trace  the  thread  of 
Oriental  gnosticism  entwined  with  Greek  subtlety, 
magic  blended  with  asceticism,  a  combination  sure  to 
commend  itself  to  an  age  of  expiring  paganism.  Apollo- 
nius  of  Tyana  was  the  worthy  hero  of  a  time  of  confused 
aspirations  and  universal  syncretism.  This  crafty  ma- 
gician who  claimed  to  be  at  once  a  prophet  and  a 
deliverer,  only  achieved  such  great  successes  because  the 
Greco-Roman  world  was  awaiting  in  vague  expectanc}^, 
the  Deliverer  who  was  to  come,  or  rather  who  was  already 
come  in  the  midst  of  a  despised  nation.  False  Messiahs 
only  succeed  in  an  age  which  is  sighing  for  Him  who  is 
the  true  Messiah. 

Women,  those  at  least  who  were  not  carried  away  by 
the  sensuous  and  self-indulgent  spirit  of  the  age,  fostered 
these  popular  superstitions.  It  is  always  less  easy  for 
women  than  for  men  to  give  up  all  religion.  Hence  we 
often  find  a  sceptical  husband  and  a  believing  wife. 
There  is  a  striking  instance  of  this  in  the  epitaphs  on  a 
tomb  at  Corcyra.  The  husband,  one  Evodus,  died  first, 
and  gave  directions  that  an  inscription  should  be  placed 
on  his  tomb,  advising  all  future  generations  to  allow  body 
and  soul  to  enjoy  as  long  as  they  possibly  could,  the 
gocd  things  of  this  life,  for  "when  once  the  soul  has  left 
the  body,  it  will  never  again  see  anything  of  the  upper 


THE  PAGAN  WORLD  AT  CHRIST'S  COMING.    439 

world."  The  widow  of  this  Epicurean,  on  the  contrary, 
declares  in  the  most  positive  manner  in  the  parallel  in- 
scription, that  her  soul  is  an  inhabitant  of  heaven  while 
her  body  remains  beneath  the  ground.^ 

Philosophy  was  not  more  successful  than  religion  in 
putting  new  life  into  this  moribund  society.  Like  art  and 
literature,  philosophy  was  an  importation  from  Greece, 
and  suffered  in  Rome  from  a  forced  and  artificial  develop- 
ment. The  Roman  mind  was  initiated  into  the  higher 
problems  of  Hellenic  philosophy,  without  passing  through 
the  introductory  stages.  Less  sensitive  than  the  Greek 
to  fine  shades  of  thought,  and  caring  only  for  strong  well- 
defined  colours,  the  Roman  translated  into  his  exact  prose 
those  subtle  dialectics,  which  so  skilfully  combined  hetero- 
geneous elements,  and  made  it  possible  for  a  man  to  be 
at  once  a  Platonist  and  a  sceptic,  an  Epicurean  and  a 
temperate  liver. 

In  Rome  every  school  was  compelled  to  show  its 
colours  and  to  follow  out  its  principles  to  their  full  con- 
sequences, even  if  in  doing  so  it  sealed  its  own  doom. 
Stoicism  alone  derived  some  advantage  from  being  trans- 
planted to  the  capital  of  the  Empire,  because  it  was  in 
harmony  with  the  best  aspects  of  the  Roman  character. 

Outside  the  schools,  properly  so  called,  there  was  a 
certain  philosophic  spirit  abroad  among  the  cultivated 
classes.  It  was  practically  a  spirit  of  scepticism,  profess- 
ing ironical  scorn  for  all  the  nobler  aspirations  of  the  soul, 
and  ridiculing  everything  outside  the  sphere  of  pleasure 
and  material  interests.  This  attitude  of  settled  indifference 
was  exactly  expressed,  not  without  a  touch  of  cynicism, 
in  the  ironical  question  addressed  by  Pilate  to  Jesus 
Christ.  "  What  is  truth  ?"  The  influence  of  this  prac- 
tical scepticism  was  counterbalanced 'by  another  influ- 
ence, which  became  increasingly  powerful  in  the  decline 
of  the  old  pagan  world.  This  was  the  pantheistic  tend- 
ency leading  mankind  back  by  a  circuitous  path,  to  the 
starting  point  of  all  idolatries.  This  tendency,  accom- 
panied with  gross  superstitions,  prevailed,  as  we  have 
seen,  in  the  degenerate  paganism  of  imperial  Rome,  which 

'  See  "Tract  on  Greek  Epigraphs,"  by  Salomon  Reinach,  pp.  1607,  1707. 


440     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

was  saturated  with  Oriental  ideas.  But  it  insinuated  itself 
also  among  the  higher  classes,  and  gained  adherents 
among  high-minded  men  who  would  have  refused  to 
worship  the  "great  mother,"  or  to  associate  with  her 
impure  priests.  Thus  Pliny  the  Elder  declared  in  his 
great  work,  which  is  a  vast  repertory  of  the  knowledge 
of  his  time,  that  the  world  is  a  great  eternal  divinity,  not 
deriving  its  existence  from  any  creative  cause,  nor  ever 
to  have  an  end.^  Varro,  who  died  more  than  a  century 
before  the  Empire,  seems  to  have  professed  an  atheism 
identical  with  that  of  Pliny  the  Elder.  St.  Augustine,  in 
the  7th  Book  of  his  "  City  of  God,"  refutes  Varro's  theory 
of  the  "  Divine  Antiquities."  Varro  held  that  there  was 
one  soul  of  the  world,  the  different  attributes  of  which 
had  received  the  names  of  divers  gods.^ 

If  we  now  turn  to  the  schools  of  philosophy,  we  are 
confronted  first  with  the  New  Academy,  introduced  into 
Rome  by  Carneades  towards  the  close  of  the  Republic.  It 
was  well-adapted  to  prepare  the  transition  from  the  stormy 
liberty  of  the  Republican  times  to  the  dull  servitude  of  the 
Empire.  It  was  its  chief  honour  to  number  among  its 
disciples  the  greatest  orator  and  finest  mind  of  the  age 
— Cicero — of  whom  Pliny  the  Elder  eloquently  said  that 
he  had  broadened  the  moral  boundaries  of  his  father- 
land.^ Cicero  was  not  one  of  those  frivolous  Sophists, 
who  only  tried  to  make  a  gain  of  philosophy.  He 
valued  it  for  its  own  sake.  It  was  to  him  the  medicine 
of  the  soul  *  and  he  expresses  his  wish  to  retire  under  its 
shadow  for  help  and  protection.  He  loves  truth,  but  it 
seems  ever  to  elude  him.  Having  been  too  early  initiated 
into  the  results  of  Greek  speculation,  he  has  drunk  of  a 
cup  that  makes  the  brain  reel.  A  scholar  rather  than  a 
philosopher,  he  sinks  under  the  weight  of  all  those  systems 
which  he  loves  to  enumerate.  He  no  longer  knows 
where  truth  is  to  be  found.     Nowhere  can  he  see  absolute 


'  'Mundum  numcn  esse  credo  aeternum,  immensum,  neque  genitum, 
neque  interiturum  unquam."     Pliny  the  Elder,  ii.  c.  i. 

'■  "  Animam  mundi  et  partes  ejus,  id  est  veros  Deos."  August.,  Ciw 
Dei,  vii.  5. 

^  Plipy  the  Elder,  vi.  3. 

*  "Animi  medicina,"  Tusc,  iii.  3,  v.    I. 


THE  PAGAN  WORLD  AT  CHRIST'S  COMING.    441 

truth,  for  what  doctrine  has  not  been  refuted  ?  Thus 
he  accepts  the  conclusions  of  the  New  Academy,  and 
endorses  its  dictum  that  man  cannot  rise  above  the 
probable.^  He  speaks  elsewhere  of  the  sorrowful  necessity 
of  abandoning  the  search  after  truth. ^  His  curious  work 
on  the  "  Nature  of  the  Gods,"  is  a  refutation  of  Epicurean- 
ism by  Stoicism,  and  of  both  by  the  systems  of  the  New 
Academy, 

In  his  treatise  on  Divination,  Cicero  lays  a  daring  hand 
on  paganism.  He  tears  it  to  tatters  and  jeers  at  it 
pitilessly  ;  but  in  all  this  heap  of  ruins,  he  fails  to  find 
the  materials  for  a  new  building,  and  moreover  fully  con- 
fesses that  he  doubts  of  everything,  doubts  even  himself : 
"  Et  mihi  ipsi  diffidens.^'' 

Yet  the  noble  aspects  of  his  nature  bring  him  into 
sympathy  with  the  god  of  Plato  and  with  his  exalted 
spirituality,  which  he  nobly  expounds  in  his  "  Horten- 
sius,"  though  never  himself  arriving  at  full  certainty.^ 

He  is  less  negative  in  morals.  His  treatise  on  duty  is 
full  of  fine  passages  breathing  the  true  spirit  of  Platonism. 
In  his  sublime  protest  against  tyranny  and  usurpation, 
we  catch  the  last  accents  of  the  dying  liberty  of  Rome.'^ 
Cicero's  moral  standpoint  is  however  far  lower  than 
the  Platonist  principle  of  conformity  to  God.  This  arises 
from  his  failure  to  grasp  spiritual  truths.  As  he  was 
never  able  to  shake  off  his  scepticism,  he  never  has 
before  him  an  unchangeable  divine  type,  higher  than 
man.^  He  therefore  turns  necessarily  rather  to  man  than 
to  God  for  the  rule  of  life.  This  will  be  found  not  in 
holiness  but  in  uprightness,  that  is  to  say  in  that  which 
is  generally  esteemed  among  men.  Consequently  the 
highest  moral  motive  will  be  the  love  of  glory.  Cicero 
falls  again  and  again  into  a  happy  inconsistency,  as  when 
he  recognises  the  divine  element  of  conscience,  and  pro- 
claims the  universality  of  the  sentiment  of  justice,  which 


'  "  Tusc,"  i.  9. 

-  "  Desperata  cognitione  certi."     De  Bon.  et  Mai.,  ii.  14. 
'  See  Zeller,  "  Outlines  of  Greek  Philosophy,"  p.  284,  et  seq. 
*  "De  Offic,"  iii.  21. 

■■■  "Nihil  hominem  nisi  quod  honeslum   decorumque  sit  aut  admirari 
aut  cptarc  opportere."    De  Offic,  i.  20. 


442    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

even  wicked  men  cannot  shake  off.^  On  the  whole,  how- 
ever, he  remains  a  disciple  of  Carneades,  and  all  his 
eloquence,  combined  with  his  moral  elevation,  does  not 
avail  to  cover  the  void  left  by  his  scepticism. 

The  philosophy  of  Epicurus  responded  so  exactly  to 
the  instincts  of  Rome,  enriched  by  the  spoils  of  the 
world,  that  if  it  had  not  existed  it  must  needs  have  been 
invented.  It  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  introduced  by 
a  great  poet,  whose  nervous  and  graphic  style  seemed  to 
dignify  to  some  extent  a  doctrine  in  Jtseli" abject.  Lucretius 
made  use  of  Epicureanism  as  a  weapon  against  the  old 
mythology,  with  which  he  was  angrily  indignant.  "  Let 
us  trample  religion  under  our  feet,"  said  he;  "  let  it  have 
its  turn,  and  let  our  victory  over  it  exalt  us  to  heaven  !  "  ^ 
Religion  seemed  to  him  the  height  of  immorality.  "  What 
crimes  has  it  not  instigated  !"^  He  would  banish  it  from 
the  earth,  so  that  the  vague  terrors  of  the  soul  might  be 
dissipated  with  its  imaginary  gods.*  Death  ceases  to  be 
anything  when  the  soul  is  admitted  to  be  mortal.^  Thus 
by  a  singular  misconception,  Lucretius  thinks  to  set  man 
free  by  taking  away  his  faith  in  God  and  im.mortality,  not 
perceiving  that  he  has  hit  upon  the  surest  method  to  des- 
troy liberty  itself.  The  doctrine  of  Epicurus  seems  to  him 
the  quiet  harbour  from  which  he  may  survey  with  satis- 
faction the  turm.oils  of  an  ambitious  philosophy  ;  and  he 
dees  not  see  that  his  vaunted  harbour  is  choked  up  with 
corrosive  substances  which  will  soon  eat  away  the  timbers 
of  his  vessel.  Better  the  high  seas  with  all  their  storms 
than  this  soul-deadening  calm.  This  lesson  at  least 
imperial  Rome  read  to  the  world. 

In  truth,  Lucretius  did  not  remain  in  this  commodious 
haven.  More  than  any  of  his  contemporaries  was  he 
tossed  about  with  the  stormy  waves.  He  too  made  ship- 
wreck ;  and  never  was  there  a  more  bitter  confession  than 
that  wrung  from  his  lips  of  the  misery  of  an  existence 

'   "Cujus  tanta  vis  est  ne  illi  quidem  qui  maleficio  et  scelere  nascuntur 
sine  ulla  particula  justitiee  vivere."     De  Oflic,  possent. 
■^  "  Exsequat  victoria  caelo."     De  reium  nat.,  p.  79. 
'  Ibid.,  i.  ICO. 

*  "  Diffugiunt  animi  terrores."    Ibid.,  iii.  16. 

*  "  Nil    igitur   mors   est.  .  .  .  Quandoquidcm    natura    animi    mortalis 
habetur."     Ibid.,  iii.  831,  832. 


'    THE  PA  GAN  WORLD  AT  CHRIST'S  COMING,    443 

without  God.  Was  it  not  he  who  said  "  Vita  mors  est "  ? 
and  while  he  denied  that  there  is  a  hell  beneath  our  feet, 
did  he  not  prove  that  there  is  a  present  hell  in  the  breast 
of  the  guilty  man  ?  This  is  the  true  Prometheus  gnawed 
by  the  insatiable  vulture.  Before  hi  3  death  Lucretius,  by 
the  very  voice  of  his  despair,  cried  out  for  a  deliverer. 

The  poetical  afflatus  which  tr;uisfigured  the  early 
Epicureans,  headed  by  Horace,  is  completely  wanting 
in  the  same  school  under  the  Empire.  It  becomes  simply 
a  school  of  self-indulgence,  and  quickly  loses  the  deli- 
cate refinement,  which  in  Greece  led  it  to  recognise 
virtue  as  giving  zest  to  pleasure,  and  temperance  as  a 
means  of  prolonging  it.  Its  final  utterance  is  simply  one 
of  gross  sensuality.  Plutarch  characterises  it  truly  when 
he  makes  his  Epicurean  philosopher  say  :  "  Let  our  v.'hole 
life  be  one  feast  of  pleasure  !  "  ^  The  influence  of  such  a 
doctrine  makes  itself  felt  alike  in  the  social  and  the  moral 
life.  Its  disciples  say  :  "  A  man  must  not  aim  to  be  a 
brave  warrior,  an  orator,  a  public  man  or  a  magistrate, 
he  must  be  content  to  enjoy  life."  Plutarch  says  :  "  Tiie 
Epicureans  teach  men  to  renounce  all  political  life."^  Such 
a  philosophy  might  well  please  despots,  but  what  a  deteri- 
oration does  it  show  from  the  old  state  of  society,  in  which 
every  citizen  lived  but  for  the  State  ! 

To  Roman  Stoicism  belongs  the  hoiiourof  having  sought 
to  bring  about  the  moral  salvation  of  a  moribund  state  of 
society,  by  kindling  aspirations  after  a  purer  religion  ;  but 
it  failed  utterly  in  its  high  initiative.  In  the  first  place, 
it  lacked  the  lever  of  a  powerful  doctrine,  the  only  one 
which  is  really  effective  in  raising  men.  It  had  nothing 
but  scorn  for  the  great  philosophers  who  tried  to  explain 
things  by  bold  metaphysics.  It  ridiculed  lofty  speculation, 
as  the  t3ang  of  a  many-stranded  knot  just  for  the  pleasure 
of  undoing  it ;  as  simply  an  idle  exe  cise  of  the  faculties, 
like  a  game  of  chess.*  There  is  in  tr'ith  a  tone  of  melan- 
choly beneath  this  seeming  scorn.  It  .lides  discouragement 
bitter  to  bear.  How  many  disillusio  :s  must  have  come, 
before  a  man  thus  gives  up   all   higi   re- .arch!     When 

'  Wei  5'  r],a':v  Sac's  re  <pi\rj.     De  Epic,  c.  ji.  I. 

*  Ibid. 

'  "  Ncclimus  nodo  ac  deinde  dissolvimus,"     Sen.,  Ep.  xlv. 


444    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

philosophy  begins  to  deal  exclusively  Mdth  the  applications 
of  its  principles,  we  are  reminded  of  the  prince  of 
Syracuse  who  from  being  a  king,  turned  schoolmaster. 
We  do  not  deny  that  there  is  a  grandeur  in  Roman 
Stoicism  ;  for  declamatory  and  theatrical  as  it  sometimes 
is,  it  yet  contrasts  nobly  with  the  abject  life  around  it. 
The  energy  which  it  develops  is,  however,  wholly  passive. 
Its  perfection  is  simply  callousness.  "  We  must  climb," 
says  Seneca,  "  to  a  height  which  the  shafts  of  fate  cannot 
reach,"  ^  A  desolating  fatalism  is  at  the  basis  of  the 
whole  system.  Fatanos  ducunt'}  The  fates  are  our  leaders, 
this  is  the  motto  of  the  Stoics.  It  does  not  compromise 
them  much,  or  make  them  dangerous  to  the  Caesars. 
For  the  rest,  they  know  how  to  accommodate  themselves 
to  human  weakness  ;  and  when  utter  impassiveness  seems 
a  thing  too  hard  to  attain,  they  counsel  suicide.  The 
Stoic  philosopher  says  :  "  Against  the  ills  of  life  I  set 
the  boon  of  death. ^  All  times  and  all  places  show  us 
how  easy  it  is  to  renounce  life." 

Thus  suicide  is  the  final  utterance  of  the  Stoic.  While 
the  Epicurean  said  to  the  Roman  of  the  Decline  :  "  Stifle 
thy  soul  with  joyance  ;  "  the  Stoic  said,  "  Kill  thyself  and 
die  erect  in  the  consciousness  of  thine  own  strength." 
To  both  alike  is  lacking  the  inspiration  of  a  truly  noble 
and  fruitful  life. 

There  is  one  man  who  may  be  regarded  as  the  in- 
carnation of  Roman  Stoicism  with  all  its  contradictions. 
This  is  Seneca.  Might  we  not  think  we  were  listen- 
ing to  a  Father  of  the  Church  when  he  eloquently  ex- 
claims :  ^' Deo  parcre  libertas:'^  to  obey  God  is  to  be 
free.  I  yield  to  no  constraint ;  I  suffer  nothing  in  my 
own  despite;  I  do  not  simply  submit  to  God  ;  I  make  his 
will  mine."^' 

Again  he  says  :  "  God  by  affliction  proves,  strengthens 


'  "Vertex  extra  omnem  tali  jactum."     Sen.,  De  Const.  Sapient. 

*  Sen.,  "Provid.,"  c.  v. 

^  ''Contra  injurias  vitae  beneficium  mortis  habeo."     Sen.,  Ep.  Ixx.  ;  De 
Prov.,  c.  vi. 

■*  Seneca,  "Vita  Beat.,"  xv. 

*  "  Nihil   cogor,    nihil   patior,  invitus,   nee   servio   Deo   sed   assentio." 
Vita  Beat.,  v. 


THE  PAGAN  WORLD  AT  CHRIST S  COMING.    445 

and  prepares  the  soul  of  the  just  for  himself.^  He  wills 
that  we  should  bear  with  the  thankless,  with  a  soul  calm, 
merciful  and  great,  for  persistent  good  triumphs  over  ill.^ 
The  image  of  God  ought  not  to  be  wrought  in  silver  or 
gold ;  it  must  be  sought  in  the  heart  of  the  just  who  is 
true  to  his  source.*  There  is  a  friendship,  or  to  speak 
more  truly,  a  likeness  between  the  good  man  and  God.* 
Yet  no  man  can  say  he  is  wholly  innocent;  for  in  so  doing 
he  would  speak  against  the  witness  of  his  conscience."  ^ 
In  other  passages,  Seneca  seems  to  anticipate  some  of  the 
greatest  reforms  wrought  by  Christianity.  He  pleads  the 
cause  of  the  slave  ;  he  shows  how  he  has  in  him  the 
nature  of  a  man,  which  must  "  ever  be  held  in  honour." 

He  speaks  also  eloquently  of  that  great  republic  which 
is  not  confined  to  any  country  and  to  which  all  men  belong. 
"  We  have  the  world  for  our  fatherland." "  The  games  of 
the  Circus  draw  from  him  this  noble  exclamation  :  "  Man, 
that  sacred  thing  to  man,  is  killed  for  our  diversion."  ^ 
The  idea  of  humanity  thus  shines  out  in  the  decline  of 
the  old  world  like  the  light  that  comes  before  the  dawn. 
Cicero  had  already  preached  what  he  called  the  love  of 
the  human  race.**  Plutarch  invokes  "that  Divinity  who 
is  neither  Greek  nor  barbarian,  the  Supreme  Intelligence 
which  under  various  names,  presides  over  the  destinies 
of  nations."'  Seneca  had  also,  like  Pliny  the  Younger 
and  Plutarch,  a  high  ideal  of  marriage.  Plutarch  in  his 
"  Marriage  Precepts,"  enjoined  chastity  as  a  virtue  that 
should  go  with  the  bride  even  into  the  arms  of  her 
husband.  She  should  be  gentle,  amiable,  pure,  and  yet 
devoted  to  the  graces,  adorned,  not  with  diamonds,  but 
with  virtue,  and  desiring  the  harmony  which  results  from 
a  perfect  union,  more  than  the  musician  desires  the  con- 
cord of  sweet  sounds.     It  is  remarkable  to  see  this  new 


'  "  Experitur,  indurat,  sibi  ilium  praeparat."     De  Provid,  vii. 
•*  "  Vincit  malos  pertinax  bonitas."     De  Beneficies,  vii.  5- 

*  "  Ep.,"  xxxi. 

*  "  De  Prov.,"  v. 

*  '' Non  respiciens  conscicntiam  tcstcm."     Ira,  i. 
®  "  Patriam  mundum  prcfessi  suinus." 

'  "  Homo,  res  sacra  homini."     Tranquill.  Anim.,  iii. ;  Ep.,  xcv. 

*  "  Caiitas  generis  humani."     Cicero,  De  Bonis  et  Mai. 
"  "  Isis  et  Osii-is,"  c.  xvii. 


446     THE  AACIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

ideal  presenting  itself  to  these  illustrious  pagans  as  the 
outcome  of  the  best  aspirations  of  the  past.  We  need 
not  suppose  Seneca  to  have  been  a  disciple  of  St.  Paul  in 
order  to  understand  how  such  a  vision  of  moral  beauty 
came  to  him.^ 

It  was,  however,  but  a  transitory  impulse  which  thus 
raised  expiring  paganism  above  itself.  This  same  Seneca, 
who  seemed  at  times  to  have  anticipated  Christianity 
itself,  fell  back  again  and  again  into  all  the  errors  of 
the  pantheism  of  the  Stoics.  He  held  that  God  was 
inseparable  from  nature.^  The  sun  was  still  a  divinity 
to  him.  The  soul  was  composed  of  various  elements,^ 
among  which  he  distinguished  one  rational  and  two 
irrational  parts ;  the  reason  was  the  divine  element  in 
man.^  A  man  deprived  of  reason  and  a  wicked  man  were 
to  him  one  and  the  same.  There  is  no  such  thing  as 
moral  freedom.  Philosophy  has  no  power  to  reform  our 
natural  character.  This  moralist,  so  subtle  and  at  times 
even  sublime,  accepts  as  his  hightest  ideal,  the  absolute 
indifference  of  the  sage,  who  from  the  chill  heights  of 
reason,  casts  a  pitying  glance  upon  all  other  beings,  not 
excepting,  in  his  supreme  self-complacency,^  even  Jupiter 
himself.^ 

Epictetus,  who  lived  a  short  time  after  him,  professed 
a  philosophy  no  less  paradoxical,  but  his  life  was  more 
consistent  with  his  doctrine.  We  might  quote  a  number 
of  admirable  maxims  of  his,  collected  in  the  "  Enchiridion," 
a  sort  of  manual  edited  by  his  disciples  and  containing 
a  summary  of  his  teaching.  He  says  :  "  The  oracles  are 
only  to  be  consulted  when  neither  reason  nor  conscience 
speak  clearly.^  Conscience  requires  that  we  be  faithful 
to  our  moral  principles,  as  much  when  we  are  alone  as 
in  the  presence  of  witnesses.*    No  sophism  can  release  us 


'  On  this  point  see  M.  Boissier,  "  La  religion  romaine  sous  Auguste," 
lol.  ii.  c.  7> 

*  "  Non  Deus  sine  natura."     De  Beneficiis,  i.  8. 
»  De  Ira,  ii.  i8. 

^  "  Summum  bonum  judicio."     Vita  Beat.,  9. 

*  "  Mirator  tantum  sui."    Vita  Beat.,  v. 

*  Clementia,  ii.  16. 

'  Enchiridion,  c.  xxxix. 
»  Ibid.,  c,  xl. 


THE  PAGAN  WORLD  AT  CHRIST'S  COMING     447 

from  this  obligation.  Let  us  not  pretend,  in  order  to 
gratify  our  ambition,  that  we  are  bound  to  work  for  the 
good  of  others.  Our  moraUty  is  the  good  of  others."  ^ 
Epictetus  enjoins  chastity,  the  forgiveness  of  injuries, 
the  avoidance  of  vainglory  and  even  a  certain  humility, 
not  without  some  analogy  with  the  Christian  virtue.^ 
Thus  he  says  :  "  He  who  slanders  me  might  truly  say 
far  worse  things  of  me  if  he  knew  rae  altogether.  The 
truly  wise  man  neither  blames  nor  praises  any  one ;  he 
complains  of  no  one  ;  he  never  speaks  of  himself  as  if 
he  were  anything."  ^  It  is  obvious  that  Epictetus  had 
come  under  the  influence  of  a  new  spirit,  and  that  he 
himself  in  some  measure  anticipated  Christianity.  He 
did  not,  however,  wholly  escape  the  hurtful  influence  of 
Stoicism.  When  he  speaks  of  our  duties  generally,  we 
agree  with  him  ;  but  when  he  comes  to  explain  what  he 
means  by  duty,  the  agreement  ceases.  His  great  principle 
is  that  man  should  attach  no  value  to  anything  except 
what  is  essentially  part  of  himself,  that  is  reason,  and  not 
to  outward  good,  nor  to  the  body,  which  is  no  real  part 
of  him.^  If  we  assent  to  this  truth,  we  shall  be  delivered 
from  all  suffering,  for  we  shall  see  that  no  possible 
reverse,  sickness  or  death,  can  really  touch  us,^  We 
shall  thus  attain  to  a  philosophical  indifference.  As  it 
is  of  the  first  moment,  that  we  should  not  allow  our- 
selves to  be  troubled  by  anything  foreign  to  ourselves, 
we  cannot  be  moved  by  the  suffering  or  sinning  of  our 
neighbour.  Epictetus  classes  the  wife  and  children  of  the 
philosopher  among  the  things  foreign  to  him.  We  see 
at  once  how  wide  an  interval  there  is  between  this  morality 
and  that  of  Christianity.  It  is  indeed  a  harsh  and  power- 
less morality,  a  morality  of  abstinence  merely.  Its  final 
utterance  is:  "Abstain,"  aTrk^pv-^  We  find  the  same 
weakness    in    the    morality    of   Marcus  Aurelius,   as    the 


'   "  Enchiridion,"  c.  xxxi. 

*  Ibid.,  c.  xlviii. 

^  dvhkva.  ypiyet,  ov^eva.  iiroivel,  ovSiva  fikficptrai,  ovSkv  irepl  eavroO  X^7et, 
iis  6vTos  Til  OS  •))  eidJTOs  ri.     c.  Ixxii. 
■•  Ibid.,  c,  vii. 

*  Ibid.,  c.  xii. 

*  Ibid.,  c.  Ixxxi. 


448     THE  ANCIENT  IVORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

character  of  that  virtuous  yet  persecuting  Emperor  comes 
out  in  the  history  of  the  second  century. 

Such  a  philosophy,  while  it  did  honour  to  humanity 
in  many  aspects,  was  not  capable  of  effecting  a  true 
moral  reformation,  although  its  adherents  sedulously 
aimed  at  this,  and  founded  a  sort  of  philosophic  pastorate, 
which  went  so  far  as  to  supply  learned  almoners  to  the 
great  families  belonging  to  their  school.^ 

Shortly  after  the  time  of  Seneca,  a  noble  attempt  was 
made  to  arrest  the  universal  decadence.  There  were 
generous  hearts  which  could  not  acquiesce  in  the  severe 
judgment  passed  by  the  ancient  world  upon  itself.  These 
rose  in  defence  of  the  common  cause,  and  like  a  picked 
troop,  rallying  a  half-routed  army  around  the  standard, 
they  strenuously  withstood  the  general  tendency  of  the 
times.  Not  finding  in  any  of  the  philosophical  schools 
of  the  day,  the  elements  of  a  religious  restoration,  they 
attached  themselves  to  the  system  which  had  done  most 
to  exalt  Hellenism,  namely  that  Platonist  idealism  which 
was  the  purest  glory  of  the  past.  Plutarch  is  the  repre- 
sentative of  this  class  of  mind.  Although  belonging  to 
a  period  immediately  following  on  the  appearance  of 
Christianity,  he  may  be  included  in  this  brief  summary 
of  ancient  philosophy  at  the  close  of  the  period  of  prepara- 
tion, because  he  represents  a  tendency  which  existed  before 
his  time  and  which  he  only  carried  on  to  its  logical 
issues.  He  did  not  leave  behind  him  any  new  doctrine, 
for  he  only  accentuated  certain  points  in  the  teaching  of 
Plato.  Thus  he  more  distinctly  formulated  dualism,  and 
widened  the  gulf  between  the  supreme  God  and  the 
creation.  The  influence  of  the  East  is  very  marked  in 
his  teaching;  which  partakes  largely  of  the  syncretism  of 

'  On  this  subject  see  M.  Martha's  very  interesting  bock :  "  Les 
moralistes  sous  I'empire."  Seneca  says  of  one  of  those  condemned  under 
Caligub,  that  he  was  accompanied  by  his  philosopher.  "  Prosequebatur 
eum  philosophus  suus  "  (De  Tranquill.,  14}.  M.  Havet  has  ably  strung 
together  the  pearls  of  the  Stoic  philosophy,  in  order  to  show  that  the 
Gospel  is  to  be  found  in  Seneca.  But  he  does  not  bring  out  sufficiently 
the  fact  that  the  thread  on  which  these  pearls  were  strung  together  was 
altogether  different  from  that  of  Christianitj-.  He  acknowledges  however 
on  the  one  hand,  that  the  Stoics  of  Rome  constantly  capitulated  to  the 
national  religion,  and  on  the  other  hand  he  admits  their  inconsistencies 
and  latent  scepticism.    Vol.  ii.  pp.  126—128. 


THE  PAGAN  WORLD  AT  CHRIST'S  COMING.     449 

the  age.  The  religious  restoration  which  he  attempts 
is  only  apparent ;  he  does  but  prepare  the  way  for  neo- 
Platonism.  He  is  constantly  carried  away  by  the  current 
he  is  trying  to  stem.  If  he  turns  to  the  past  it  is  that  the 
actual  state  of  the  world  does  not  satisfy  him.  This  is 
his  way  of  anticipating  the  future  ;  moreover  he  carries 
into  his  loving  investigation  of  the  past,  all  the  moral 
and  intellectual  acuteness  of  the  age  in  which  he  lives. 

Plutarch's  first  endeavour  is  to  give  vividness  to  that 
antiquity  of  which  he  would  perpetuate  the  remembrance. 
He  rears  a  noble  monument  to  the  past  in  his  "Lives," 
and  this  is  his  own  best  title  to  fame.  Herodotus  who 
narrated,  as  Homer  sang,  without  philosophical  bias  and 
intent,  had  painted  in  its  true  colours,  this  golden  age  of 
Greek  polytheism.  Plutarch,  whose  great  aim  is  to  ideal- 
ise, writes  a  special  essay  to  invalidate  the  testimony  of 
the  historian,  entitled  :  "On  the  Malignity  of  Herodotus." 
At  the  same  time,  he  combats  v.ith  no  little  asperity', 
Stoicism  and  Epicureanism,  which  were  his  natural 
enemies.  On  the  other  hand  he  exalts  the  school  of 
P3thagoras  beyond  measure,  because  he  justly  regards 
it  as  the  precursor  of  Platonism.^  On  the  same  grounds, 
he  vindicates  all  the  religious  institutions  of  ancient 
Greece.  In  his  treatise  on  the  oracles  of  the  Pythoness, 
lie  complains  of  the  over-refinement  of  the  Greeks 
who  reject  them  on  account  of  their  inelegant  verbiage. 
His  Treatise  on  Superstition  is  designed  to  rebuke 
incredulity  and  fanaticism,  the  two  extremes  between 
v,  hich  the  spirit  of  the  rge  alternated.  He  would 
fain  bring  his  contemporaries  back  to  the  calm  faith 
which  characterises  the  childhood  of  nations,  but  alas! 
an  old  and  sceptical  generation  cannot  thus  become 
again  as  a  little  child.  Of  this  Plutarch  is  himself  an 
example.  It  is  in  vain  that  he  tries  to  exalt  the  old 
religion.  He  feels  that  it  is  passing  away,  and  he  pours 
out  an  eloquent  lamentation  over  it.  He  himself  no  longer 
believes  in  it ;  at  least  he  cannot  accept  it  in  the  old  form. 
He  is  fain  to  trace  the  same  fundamental  beliefs  in  all 
religions,  and  in  his  essay  on  Isis  and  Osiris  he  tries  to 

'  See  the  treatise  :  Trepi  (TapKO(payla.i. 

29 


450     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

establish  the  identity  of  the  Greek  myths  with  the  old 
religion  of  Egypt.  It  would  scarcely  be  possible  more 
completely  to  belie  the  genius  of  Hellenism.  Sometimes 
he  falls  back  on  purtly  physical  explanations  of  the  myths. 
Thus  he  regards  Osiris  and  Bacchus  as  personifying  the 
humid  element  in  nature.  Sometimes  he  rises  into  an 
idealism  foreign  to  the  old  mytholog}^,  as  in  his  admirable 
essay  on  the  inscription  in  the  temple  at  Delphi. 

If  Plutarch  fails  in  his  attempt  to  restore  the  past,  no 
writer  of  the  period  surpasses  him  in  quick  perception 
of  the  new  ideal  which,  by  a  marvellous  coincidence,  the 
heathen  world  came  co  conceive  at  the  very  time  when  it 
was  about  to  be  at  'nee  realised  and  surpassed.  In  his 
essay  on  Isis  and  C  siris,  Plutarch  carefully  distinguishes 
between  the  deity  and  his  manifestations,  which  must  no 
more  be  confounded  than  we  confound  the  anchor  and 
sails  of  a  vessel  wiiih  the  pilot  who  steers  it.  On  the 
front  of  Apollo's  Te.nple  in  Delphi  was  the  word  : — Et, 
Thou  art.  In  this  Plutarch  read  the  true  name  of  God. 
"We  do  not  at  all  essentially  partake  of  being;  for 
every  mortal  nature,  being  in  the  midst  between  gene- 
ration and  corruption,  exhibits  only  an  appearance  and 
an  obscure  and  unreal  opinion  of  itself.  .  .  .  What  then 
is  it  that  has  really  a  being  ?  That  which  is  eternal, 
unbegotten,  and  incorruptible,  to  which  no  time  brings  a 
change."  ^ 

"  1  am  therefore  of  opinion  that  this  syllable  signifies 
neither  number,  order  nor  connection,  nor  any  other  of 
the  deficient  parts,  but  is  a  self-perfect  appellation  and 
salutation  of  the  God  which  brings  the  speaker  to  the 
conception  of  the  po.ver  of  the  God  at  the  very  moment 
of  uttering  it.  For  the  God  in  a  manner  calls  upon 
every  one  of  us  who  comes  hither  with  this  salutation, 
'  Know  thyself,'  which  is  nothing  inferior  to  All  hail. 
And  we  again,  answering  the  God,  say  to  him  £i,  Thou 
art,  attributing  to  him  the  true,  unfeigned  and  sole 
appellation  of  being,  as  agreeing  to  him  alone."^ 

"  Let  us  awake,"  Plutarch  says  again  ;  "  we  have  been 


>  Of  Er  at  Apollo's  Temple  in  Delphi,  §  i8,  19. 
*  Ibid.,  §17. 


2 HE  PAGAN  WORLD  A T  CHRIST ' S  COMING.    45 1 

dreaming  long  enough.      Let  us  no  more   confound  the 
workman  with  his  work.  .  .   .  "^ 

The  question  of  the  divine  justice  is  treated  with  great 
elevation  of  thought  in  his  treatise,  "  The  Punishment  of 
the  Wicked  ;  why  so  long  delayed."  The  philosopher 
rises  almost  to  the  Christian  view  of  trial.  Punishment, 
according  to  him,  always  has  a  moral  end  in  view.  If 
naughty  children  are  punished,  if  the  chastisement  of  a 
crime  rests  upon  an  entire  race,  it  is  because  a  race  is 
in  truth  one  moral  being  always  in  connection  with  its 
source  and  head.  It  not  only  owes  its  being  to  him ;  it 
is  in  a  manner  part  of  himself,  so  that  he  is  chastised  in 
its  chastisement.^  We  marvel  at  such  an  insight  into  the 
great  mystery  of  the  solidarity  of  the  human  race. 

In  the  same  treatise  Plutarch  sets  forth  in  striking 
figures  his  faith  in  immortality,  dimmed  though  it  is  by 
the  incoherence  of  his  beliefs  as  to  the  future  life.  He 
says :  "  Can  we  think  that  God  so  little  considers  his  own 
actions,  or  is  such  a  waster  of  his  time  in  trifles,  that  if  we 
had  nothing  of  divine  within  us,  nothing  that  in  the  least 
resembled  his  perfection,  nothing  permanent  and  stable, 
but  were  only  poor  creatures,  that  (according  to  Homer's 
expression)  faded  and  dropped  like  withered  leaves,  and 
in  a  short  time  too,  yet  he  should  make  so  great  account 
of  us — Hke  women  that  bestow  their  pains  in  making  little 
gardens,  no  less  delightful  to  them  than  the  gardens  of 
Adonis,  in  earthen  pans  and  pots,  as  to  create  us  souls  to 
blossom  and  flourish  only  for  a  day,  in  a  soft  and  tender 
body  of  flesh,  without  any  firm  and  solid  root  of  life,  and 
then  to  be  blasted  and  extinguished  in  a  moment  upon 
every  slight  occasion.  .  .  .  Therefore  for  my  part  I  will 
never  deny  the  immortality  of  the  soul."  ^ 

Unhappily  a  vein  of  dualism  runs  through  the  whole  of 
this  grand  philosophy  which  is  a  distant  echo  of  Platonism. 
But  the  perception  of  the  distance  which  divides  the 
world  as  it  now  is,  from  God,  made  Plutarch  keenly 
alive  to  the  need  of  a  mediator.  Hence  the  doctrine  of 
demons  or  of  intermediate  deities  destined  to  bridge  over 

'  'F.y€ip(xifj.ev. 

*  'E^  avTuv  yap,  oi'x  inr'  ai/Tou  yiyovcv. 

*  "  Punishment  of  the  Wicked,"  etc,  §  17. 


452     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

the  abyss  between  us  and  the  supreme  God.  Demons, 
according  to  Plutarch,  occupy  a  place  between  gods  and 
men,  and  establish  a  sort  of  communication  between  them.^ 
This  idea,  which  is  essentially  Oriental,  became  in  time, 
the  parent  of  the  Neo-PIatonist  doctrine  of  emanation,  and 
of  gnosticism.  It  was  based  upon  an  erroneous  principle, 
but  it  blended  with  it  an  element  of  truth,  namely,  the 
necessity  of  a  mediation  which  should  form  a  link  between 
heaven  and  earth.  In  short,  Plutarch  brought  together 
in  his  system  all  the  higher  elements  and  aspirations  of 
Hellenism,  but  he  did  not  escape  its  imperfections. 

No  school  of  philosophy  could  save  the  ancient  world. 
Philosophy,  in  its  best  representatives,  was  capable  of 
dimly  conceiving  but  not  of  achieving  the  deliverance  for 
which  the  world  was  groaning.  Its  impotence  was  moral 
rather  than  intellectual.  It  was  too  fettered  by  fear  of 
consequences  to  have  much  influence  on  the  world.  No 
philosopher  dared  openly  avow  what  he  thought.  All 
pretended  to  have  some  secret  doctrine  which  they  con- 
fided only  to  the  initiate  ;  but  in  public  they  bowed  before 
the  god  whom  in  private  they  denied.  Cicero  says 
candidly:  "In  the  question  concerning  the  nature  of  the 
gods,  the  first  enquiry  is  whether  there  are  gods  or  not. 
It  would  be  dangerous,  I  believe,  to  take  the  negative  side 
before  a  public  auditory,  but  it  is  very  safe  in  a  discourse 
of  this  kind  and  before  this  company.  I,  who  am  a  priest, 
and  who  think  that  religions  and  ceremonies  ought  cer- 
tainly to  be  maintained,  am  certainly  desirous  to  have 
the  existence  of  the  gods  not  only  fixed  in  opinion,  but 
proved  to  demonstration,  for  many  notions  flow  into  and 
disturb  the  mind  which  sometimes  seem  to  convince  us 
that  there  are  none."  " 

Seneca  did  not  hesitate  to  say  that  the  practices  of  the 
popular  religion  ought  to  be  observed  by  the  wise  man, 
not  in  order  to  commend  himself  to  the  gods,  but  to  con- 
form to  the  laws.  St.  Augustine  rightly  denounces  such 
conduct.  He  says  :  "  The  man  whose  mind  had  been 
enlightened  by  philosophy,  and  who  yet  under  pretext 
that    he   was    a    Roman    senator,    went    on,    outwardly 

*  See  the  Essay  on  the  Genius  of  Socrates. 

*  Gicero,  "Of  the  Nature  of  the  Gods,"  i.  p.  22. 


THE  PAGAN  WORLD  AT  CHRIST'S  COMING.    453 

observing  that  which  in  secret  he  denied,  was  performing 
the  part  of  an  actor,  not  upon  the  stage,  but  in  the  temple 
of  the  gods  :  and  his  duplicity  was  all  the  more  blame- 
worthy because  it  was  taken  in  good  faith  by  the  people, 
so  that  he  deceived  and  misled  them  at  the  very  foot  of 
the  altars." '^  But  Seneca  puts  into  the  lips  of  the  popu- 
lace, the  most  damning  cJharge  against  the  philosophers  of 
the  day,  when  he  says :  "  You  speak  in  one  sense  and  act 
in  another ;  Aliter  loqueris  aliter  vivis.  You  do  not  the 
things  that  you  say." " 

Seneca  gives  us  the  jesting  remarks  of  the  crowd  who 
ironically  asked  this  eloquent  apostle  of  poverty,  if  he  was 
heaping  up  tons  of  gold  in  his  cell.  He  pronounced  his 
own  condemnation  and  that  of  all  the  moral  theorists  who 
do  not  touch  with  the  tip  of  their  fingers  the  burden  they 
are  so  ready  to  lay  upon  others,  when  he  said  :  "  We 
must  choose  as  our  guide,  a  man  who  is  more  to  be 
admired  in  what  he  is  seen  to  be,  than  in  what  he  is  heard 
to  say."  ■'' 

The  philosophy  of  these  unsettled  times,  with  its  want 
of  candour,  and  its  practical  inconsistencies  could  not 
be  such  a  guide.  Nothing  but  sincerity  carries  any  power 
with  it  in  the  moral  world ;  all  duplicity  is  weakness. 
The  philosophers  were  very  conscious  of  their  lack  of 
power.  "  Now  that  we  are  alone,"  says  Cicero,  "  we  can 
enquire  into  the  truth  without  stirring  hatred"."^  The  great 
orator  had  not  learned,  like  St.  Paul  or  even  like  Socrates, 
that  the  truth  requires  witnesses  ready  to  suffer  all  things 
for  its  sake  and  is  only  revealed  to  men  who  have  the 
courage  of  their  convictions.  While  the  Roman  philo- 
sophers who  met  in  secret  to  discuss  their  esoteric 
doctrines,  rejoiced  in  their  isolation  from  mankind,  the 
martyrs,  who  had  no  earthly  future  to  promise  their 
adherents   but  suffering  and  death,  were  surrounded  by 


•  "  Illustris  populi  Roman  senator,  agebat  quod  arguebat,  quod  culpa- 
bat  adorabat."     Aug.,  Civ.  Dei,  vi.  II. 

2  Sen.,  "Vita  Beat.,"  17. 

'  "Euin  elige  adjutorem  quern  magis  admireris  cum  videris  quam 
cum  audieris."     Ep.  lii. 

^  "  Soli  sumus ;  licet  verum  exquirere  sine  invidia."  Cicero,  De  Divina- 
tione,  ii.  13. 


454     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

an  eager  throng  of  disciples.  "  There  is  a  fascination  in 
these  sufferings  "  said  Tertulhan.  "  Est  illecebra  in  Hits.'" 
It  was  this  stern  fascination  of  a  firm  and  indomitable 
faith  which  was  w^anting  to  the  philosophy  of  the  decline. 
Its  powerlessness  became  very  manifest  when  it  was 
brought  into  contact  with  the  great  sorrows  of  human 
life.  Cicero  and  Seneca  tried  the  power  of  their  doctrine 
on  friends  plunged  into  deep  suffering  and  distress.  They 
counselled  resignation  to  an  irreparable  evil;  recommended 
the  distractions  of  study,  of  active  exertion,  in  short  of 
forgetfulness,  which  is  virtually  moral  death.  Seneca 
goes  so  far  as  to  say  to  an  afQicted  friend  :  "  Thou  hast 
lost  the  object  of  thy  affection,  seek  another."^  To  such 
miserable  comforters,  Pliny  the  Younger  cries  out  in 
anguish  of  heart :  "  Give  me  some  fresh  comfort,  great 
and  strong,  such  as  I  have  never  yet  heard  or  read. 
Everything  that  I  have  read  or  heard  comes  back  now 
to  my  memory,  but  my  sorrow  is  too  deep  to  be  reached 
by  it." 

From  this  brief  review  of  the  schools  of  philosophy, 
we  conclude  that  mankind  had  now  reached  the  point 
to  which  God  would  bring  it.  The  desire  for  salvation 
had  come  out  purer  and  more  distinct  from  its  various 
mythological  evolutions,  and  the  Greco-Roman  world 
had  abundantly  proved  its  own  incapacity  to  satisfy  that 
desire.  Fallen  man  had  never  lost  for  a  single  day,  his 
sense  of  the  need  of  pardon  and  reparation,  as  is  shown 
by  the  multitude  of  sacrifices  and  the  smoke  of  the 
holocausts  rising  to  heaven  on  all  sides,  and  uttering  an 
inarticulate  cry  for  mercy.  From  the  time  that  the  idea 
of  a  holy  God  had  presented  itself  to  the  conscience,  this 
desire  for  pardon  and  restoration  had  acquired  new 
meaning  and  had  become  purer  and  deeper.  But  the 
ancient  world  not  only  had  no  response  to  give  to  this 
cry  of  the  wounded  conscience,  it  could  not  retain  in  its 
purity,  this  conception  of  one  supreme  God,  even  after 
it  seemed  to  have  definitely  grasped  it.  It  constantly 
relapsed  into  dualism.  When  Plutarch  says  that  "  Nature 
produces  nothing  here  but  what  is  mixed  and  tempered, 

'  "  Aliqua  magna  nova  solatia."     Pliny,  Ep.,  i.  12. 


THE  PA GAN  WORLD  AT  CHRIS 2  'S  COMING.     455 

{i.e.  made  up  of  bad  as  well  as  good)  and  must  certainly 
therefore  have  a  peculiar  source  and  origin  of  evil  as 
well  as  of  good  ;"^  he  gave  the  exact  resultant  of  all  ancient 
philosophy. 

This  fundamental  error  prevented  the  complete  triumph 
of  spiritualism  even  in  the  best,  and  caused  the  many  to 
be  carried  away  by  the  current  of  materialism.  Hence 
the  painful  discrepancy  between  the  real  and  the  ideal ; 
the  paradoxes  on  every  hand  ;  the  contrast  between  actual 
degradation  and  the  sublime  vision  of  unattainable  purity. 
Hence  also  the  irrepressible  feeling  after  an  unknown 
God. 

This  desire  was  indeed  dim  and  undefined.  Though 
it  was  present  in  all  classes  of  society,  it  lay  buried  deep 
in  the  heart,  and  only  the  leaping  sparks  now  and  again 
betrayed  the  hidden  fire.  It  was  never  fully  recognised 
till  the  religion  of  Christ  had  come ;  for  great  religious 
movements  not  only  satisfy  the  cravings  of  which  humanity 
is  conscious,  but  make  manifest  to  it  its  deeper  needs. 
This  explains  the  rapidity  of  the  early  conquests  of 
Christianity  in  the  pagan  world.  If  it  met  with  oppo- 
sition no  less  strong  and  determined  than  the  welcome 
which  it  won,  this  was  because  the  masses  were  too 
deeply  corrupted  not  to  hate  the  revealing  light.  This 
terrible  corruption  of  the  Greco-Roman  world,  at  the 
time  when  the  greatest  revolution  of  history  was  about  to 
be  effected,  is  only  another  proof  that  the  fulness  of  the 
time  had  come. 

As  we  have  said  more  than  once,  there  is  a  world 
within  a  world — one  which  sets  itself  against  the  designs 
of  God,  another  which  apprehends  and  acquiesces  in  them. 
The  disproportion  of  numbers  between  the  two  is  of 
little  moment.  The  spiritual  election  which  fulfils  the 
will  of  God  and  truly  interprets  the  lessons  life  is  designed 
to  teach,  is  often  a  very  small  minority.  It  is  none  the 
less  certain  that  God  makes  use  of  it  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  His  purposes.  The  privileged  few  are  thus  made 
the  medium  of  blessing  to  all.  In  these  hearts  first  arises 
the  dawn  of  the  new  day. 

'   Plutarch,  "  Isis  and  Osiris,"  §  45. 


4S6     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

In  order  to  determine  if  the  world  was  prepared  eigh- 
teen centuries  ago  to  receive  Christianity,  we  must  look 
higher  than  the  reckless  crowd  and  the  degraded  aristocracy 
who  seem,  as  they  throng  the  Circus  in  Rome,  to  forget 
that  life  has  any  serious  meaning  at  all.  We  must  ask 
ourselves  what  honest  hearts  thirsting  for  truth  must  have 
felt  in  such  an  age,  and  we  learn  this  best  from  the  testi- 
mony of  lofty  poetry  which  is  the  voice  of  the  spirit.  It 
alone  reveals  those  sacred  depths,  of  which  the  soul  itself 
was  perhaps  but  vaguely  conscious  till  thought  thus 
shaped  itself  in  creative  words.  Virgil  was  the  spokes- 
man of  this  travailing  world  which  knew  it  was  in  its 
death-pangs,  though  it  set,  Hke  the  sun,  in  power  and 
glory.  Never  was  verse  more  exquisite,  never  did  its 
suggestive  harmonies  find  a  more  thrilling  response  in  the 
heart  of  man  ;  for  it  is  the  magic  of  great  poetry  to  awaken 
a  poetry  grander  still  in  the  depths  of  man's  nature,  with 
fuller  chords  of  "linked  sweetness  long  drawn  out."  The 
tones  of  the  inspired  lyre  move  the  soul  to  groanings  of 
strong  desire  that  cannot  be  uttered.  Therefore  we  learn 
more  from  Virgil  of  that  which  was  stirring  the  minds  of 
men,  than  from  all  the  historians,  or  even  from  the  most 
outspoken  letters  of  the  greatest  spirits  of  the  age.  Beyond 
question  he  is  its  true  representative,  in  his  devotion  to 
the  glory  of  Rome,  and  in  the  sincerity  with  which  he 
strives,  by  means  of  his  grand  epic,  to  help  forward  the 
work  of  national  and  religious  restoration  undertaken  by 
Augustus,  a  work  which  he  admires  not  as  a  courtier  but 
as  a  patriot.  But  who  does  not  feel  that  his  pathetic 
and  melancholy  genius  embraces  an  area  far  wider  than 
the  political  horizon  ?  Standing  on  the  confines  of  two 
periods,  no  one,  I  suppose,  felt  more  keenly  than  he  did, 
the  calamities  that  befel  the  fatherland.  Removed  to  a 
distance  from  his  beloved  Mantua,  like  a  twig  torn  by  a 
tempest  from  the  branch,  his  particular  suffering  became 
the  echo  of  the  sufiering  of  all.  Hence  his  longing  for 
retirement  and  for  converse  with  nature,  which  he  loves 
with  all  the  passion  of  a  modern  poet.  He  feels  that 
there  is  in  nature  a  mysterious  sympathy  with  his  sadness, 
and  he  asks  her  to  comfort  him  like  a  sister  beloved.  In 
describing  nature,  he  uses  figures  full  of  tender  feeling, 


THE  PAGAN  WORLD  AT  CHRIST'S  COMING.    457 


as  when  he  asks  the  vinedresser  to  be  gentle  in  his 
pruning  of  the  vine.^  In  one  grand  verse  he  likens  great 
sorrows  to  the  great  sea,  whose  solemn  surging  makes 
echo  to  their  sobs  : 

"  Cunctceque  profundum 
Pontum  adspectabant  flentes."  ''■ 

When  he  speaks  of  the  "  arnica  silentia  lunce,''  it  is 
because  he  has  felt  the  gracious  peace  of  the  quiet  night 
come  down  upon  his  soul.  Is  it  not  this  sympathy  with 
nature  which  makes  him  see  the  divine  flowing  through 
her,  like  the  blood  in  the  veins  ?  Her  great  mysterious 
voices  seem  to  him  the  echo  of  our  griefs.  The  murmur 
of  the  waters  repeats  the  name  of  the  beloved  wife,  torn 
from  the  embrace  of  her  husband.^ 

"  Eurydicen  toto  refcrebant  flumine  ripse." 

It  is  this  dear  name  which  the  passionate  song  of  the 
bird  of  spring  seems  to  warble  plaintively  upon  the  per- 
fumed air : 

"  Et  maestis  late  loca  qurestibus  implet."* 

This  clinging  to  nature  is,  in  troublous  times,  the  sure 
sign  of  a  mortal  weariness  of  soul  under  the  weight  of 
human  destiny.  It  is  this  feeling  which  reveals  to  Virgil 
those  tears  filling  the  eyes  of  all  created  things  ("  sunt 
lachrymae  rerum")  which  in  the  childhood  of  the  world 
man  never  saw.  Throughout  the  immortal  work  of  Virgil, 
there  breathes  a  tender  pathos.  We  know  in  what  glow- 
ing tints  he  painted  love  in  the  4th  Book  of  his  ^neid, 
and  with  what  searching  analysis  he  laid  bare  its  anguish. 
It  is  this  sensibility  which  constitutes  the  pathos  of  so 
many  of  the  episodes  of  his  great  poem.  We  feel  that 
the  poet  is  ever  rising  above  the  particular  sorrows  of  his 
heroes,  to  a  vaster  sorrow  still — that  of  the  human  race. 
As  he  watches  the  shades  hurrying  down  to  earth,  iEneas 

'   "Parcendum  teneris."     Georg.,  ii.  363. 

*  JEne'iA.,  v.  614,  615. 

*  Georg.,  iv.  527. 

*  Ibid.,  515. 


458    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY, 

says,   "Whence  comes  to  these  sad  souls,  this  senseless 
love  of  life  ?  " 

"  Quae  lucis  miseris  tarn  dira  cupido  ?  "  ' 

"Is  not  everything  upon  earth  plunging  into  inevitable 
death?" 

"  Sic  omnia  fatis 
In  pejus  ruere."  ^ 

Virgil  represented  the  best  tendencies  of  his  age  when 
he  made  himself  the  organ  of  all  that  was  purest  and 
noblest  in  the  old  philosophy.  Plato  as  supplemented 
by  Pythagoras  was  his  guide  to  the  Elysian  fields,  as  he 
himself  was  to  be  the  guide  of  Dante  on  a  like  pilgrimage. 
In  poetry  worthy  of  Phaedo,  he  expressed  the  lofty 
intuitions  of  Greek  philosophy,  as  to  the  immortality  of 
the  soul,  and  the  sanctions  of  eternal  justice.  And  yet 
these  prospects  were  so  dim,  even  when  overshone  with 
the  radiance  of  his  genius,  that  they  neither  satisfied  nor 
comforted  him.  His  thoughts  still  reached  forward 
questioningly  into  the  future.  He  had  a  presentiment 
that  some  great  crisis  was  at  hand,  that  the  old  world  was 
to  give  place  to  the  new.  It  matters  little  that  he  fixed 
his  hopes  on  an  unknown  child  who  has  left  no  trace  in 
the  memory  of  men.  They  had  a  far  wider  scope.  The 
branch  on  which  for  a  moment  they  rested,  was  too  frail 
to  sustain  them,  and  they  soared  again  with  broader 
sweep,  into  the  unknown.  Virgil  dreams  of  a  time  when 
all  traces  of  the  crimes  of  men  shall  be  effaced,  when 
the  earth  shall  be  delivered  from  the  sorrow  that  over- 
whelms it : 

"  Te  duce,  si  qua  manent  sceleris  vestigia  nostri, 
Irrita  perpetua  solvent  formidine  terras."^ 

"  Lo  !  in  the  coming  age  all  things  rejoice  !  " 
"  Aspice,  venturo  Isetantur  ut  omnia  sseclo."* 

It  was  specially  in  this  aspect  that  Virgil  was  the 
inspired  voice  of  his  generation.     Victor  Hugo  has  well 


'  .iEneid.,  ii.  72.  '  Eclogue,  iv,  13,  14. 

'  Georg.,  i.  199,  200.  ■•  Ibid.,  iv.  52, 


THE  PAGAN  WORLD  AT  CHRISr S  COMING.     459 

expressed  in  the  following  lines  the  mysterious  expectancy 
which  filled  the  air  at  this  period  : 

"  Le  vers  porte  a  sa  eime  une  lueur  etrange 
C'est  qu  a  son  insu  meme  il  est  une  des  ames 
Que  rOrient  lointain  teignait  de  vagues  flammes, 
C'est  qu'il  est  un  des  coeurs  que,  deja,  sous  les  cieux 
Dorait  le  jour  naissant  du  Christ  mysterieux." 

It  is  easy  to  understand  how  Virgil  came  to  be  Chris- 
tianised in  early  legend.  His  feast  was  kept  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  as  one  of  the  prophets  of  Christ.  St.  Paul 
^vas  supposed  to  have  visited  his  tomb  in  Naples,  and  to 
have  lamented  over  it  thus  :  "  O  greatest  of  poets,  what 
had  I  not  made  of  thee,  had  I  but  met  thee  in  thy  life- 
time ! "  ^ 

We  conclude  with  M.  Boissier  that  Virgil  was  one  of 
those  who  prepared  the  way  for  the  triumph  of  Chris- 
tianity without  knowing  it "  and  with  M.  Duruy  we  say, 
that  like  a  new  Columbus,  he  pointed  through  the  mists 
of  the  West,  to  the  new  world  which  was  to  come  forth 
from  them.^  Dante  gave  a  perfectly  true  picture  of 
Virgil,  when  he  likened  him  to  a  man  going  out  into 
the  night,  and  carrying  behind  him  a  torch  of  which  he 
makes  no  use,  but  which  lightens  the  path  of  those  who 
come  after. 

Every  impartial  historian  recognises  from  his  own  point 
of  view  the  attitude  of  expectancy  in  which  souls  were 
standing  at  this  time,  "  Every  man,"  says  Lucretius,  "is 
groping  after  the  way  of  life."  It  seems  strange  to 
find  this  great  Epicurean  poet  thus  anticipating  the  words 
afterwards  spoken  by  Paul  at  Athens.  M.  Havet  says: 
"There  was  a  prevailing  idea  that  the  end  of  the  world 
was  at  hand.  With  this  idea  of  destruction  was  blended 
that  of  a  new  beginning,  and  this  predominated  in  the 
spirits  that  sought  some  hope  to  cling  to.  These  asked 
and  waited  for  a  Saviour."*     We  know  that  this  eminent 


*  "  Quem  te,  inquit,  reddidessim 
Si  te  vivum  invenissem 
Poetarum  maxime. 

*  Boissier,  i.  p.  284.         ^  Duruy,   "  Histoire  des  Romains,"  iii.  p.  38. 
<  Havet,  vol.  i.  p.  188. 


46o    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 


writer  does  not  retract  anything  from  the  severity  of  his 
judgment  of  Christianity,  the  sole  merit  of  which,  in  his 
eyes,  is  that  it  prepares  the  way  for  its  own  destruction 
and  that  of  the  reUgions  of  the  past,  thus  leaving  a  clear 
course  for  free  thought.  We  only  cite  this  passage  there- 
fore, in  order  to  show  that  even  he  admits  this  attitude  of 
universal  expectation.  M.  Boissier  regards  it  altogether 
from  our  point  of  view.  He  says  :  "  It  was  Christianity 
which  gave  full  satisfaction  to  all  the  vaguely  felt  needs  of 
humanity  which  none  of  the  old  religions  had  really  met. 
Christianity  probably  would  not  have  spread  so  rapidly  a 
century  earlier  when  Cicero  was  winning  the  applause  of 
the  crowd  by  such  words  as  these  :  "  Do  not  think  that  a  god 
falls  down  upon  us  from  heaven,  and  that,  as  on  the  stage, 
he  comes  to  mingle  with  and  to  converse  with  men."  A 
God  thus  coming  down  from  heaven  for  the  salvation  of  men 
was  the  very  God  whom  men  were  looking  for.  It  was  well 
that  he  should  be  born  in  a  time  of  such  religious  agitation  ; 
it  was  better  still  that  this  agitation  had  hitherto  led  to 
only  incomplete  results."^  In  the  midst  of  prevailing  doubt 
the  soul  was  anxiously  seeking  some  settled  belief  and  was 
weary  in  its  bootless  quest.  Plato  had  already  said  :  "  A 
man  should  persevere  until  he  has  attained  one  of  two 
things :  either  he  should  discover  or  learn  the  truth  about 
them  ;  or  if  this  is  impossible,  I  would  have  him  take  the  best 
and  most  irrefragable  of  human  notions,  and  let  this  be 
the  raft  upon  which  he  sails  through  life — not  without  risk, 
as  I  admit,  if  he  cannot  find  some  word  of  God  which  will 
more  surely  and  safely  carry  him."'-^ 

On  all  hands  men  were  in  search  of  this  "  word  of 
God,"  which  might  bring  them  safely  into  port.  In 
illustration  of  this  we  may  give  the  confession  of  one 
beautiful  soul.  We  quote  from  an  apocryphal  writing  of 
the  second  century,  a  passage  which  is  free  from  the 
legendary  superstitions  and  doctrinal  subtleties  that  too 
often  deface  it.  "  From  my  earliest  youth  "says  Clement, 
the  hero  of  the  "  Clementines,"  "  1  was  exercised  with 
doubt.     I  know  not  how  it  took  possession  of  my  soul. 


'  Boissier,  vol.  ii.  pp.  451,  452. 
«  Plato,  "Pheedo,"  §85. 


THE  PAGAN  WORLD  AT  CHRIST'S  COMING.    461 

I  Lipcd  to  ?ay  to  myself.  '  When  I  am  dead,  shall  I  be 
real!}'  annihilated,  and  will  no  one  think  of  me  any  more  ? 
Then  it  were  as  well  never  to  have  been  born.  When 
was  the  world  created  ?  What  was  before  the  world  ? 
What  will  become  of  it  in  the  future  ? '  These  thoughts 
pursued  me  night  and  day,  and  the  more  I  tried  to  shake 
them  off,  the  more  my  trouble  grew.  I  was  assured  that 
there  was  a  heavenly  guide  to  lead  me  into  truth,  and  I 
sought  him  from  place  to  place.  Exercised  with  these 
thoughts  from  my  youth  up,  I  passed  through  the  schools 
of  the  philosophers,  and  found  in  them  only  conflicting 
opinions  subverting  one  another.  Now  one  would  prove 
the  immortality  of  the  soul,  and  another  would  demonstrate 
that  it  was  mortal.  Thus  I  was  tossed  about  from  one 
doctrine  to  another,  and  became  more  wretched  than  ever. 
As  the  whirlwind  of  contrary  ideas  carried  me  hither 
and  thither,  I  sighed  from  the  depths  of  my  soul."  ^ 

To  lead  humanity  thus  to  sigh  after  deliverance,  was  the 
great  design  of  God  in  this  work  of  preparation.  After 
reading  Cicero's  "  Hortensms,"  which  contains  in  a  con- 
centrated form  the  very  best  that  the  ancient  world  had 
to  give,  St.  Augustine  says  :  "  Then  I  arose  and  went  to 
Christ."  How  many  noble  spirits  before  the  coming  of 
Christ  would  fain  have  done  the  same.  Such  words  show 
conclusively  that  the  fulness  of  the  times  was  come.  We 
may  conclude  with  these  words  of  the  poet  Prudentius  :-- 

"  Christo  jam  venienti 
Credo  parata  via  est." 

'  "  Eoque  magis  in  profundo  pectoris  cruciabar."   Recogniliones,  c.  i.  .6 
*  "Contra  Symm.,"  ii.  120. 


CONCLUSION. 

IN  order  to  complete  this  comparative  history  of  the 
rehgions  of  the  ancient  world,  we  ought  now  to  trace 
through  its  various  phases,  the  religious  development  of 
Judaism.  This  we  may  attempt  to  do  in  a  future  volume, 
which  would  be  the  best  introduction  to  the  "  History  of 
the  Apostolic  Age." 

For  the  present  we  shall  simply  indicate  what  was 
the  leading  and  formative  thought,  so  to  speak,  of  this 
necessary  evolution,  without  which  the  work  of  prepara- 
tion could  not  be  complete. 

In  order  to  determine  its  true  character  and  its  relations 
to  the  development  of  historic  paganism,  it  will  be  needful 
to  recapitulate  briefly  the  general  plan  of  that  development 
as  sketched  in  our  Introduction. 

Every  man  who  believes  in  God,  sees  in  history  the 
steady  carrying  out  of  God's  designs,  through  all  the 
fluctations  and  oppositions  of  man's  will,  which,  perverted 
as  it  is  by  sin,  is  always  recognised  and  respected  in  God's 
dealings  with  man.  Under  the  control  of  a  God  who  is  at 
once  love  and  holiness,  history  can  be  nothing  else  than 
the  progressive  accomplishment  of  a  work  of  restoration 
and  salvation.  This  work,  unless  it  is  to  be  a  merely 
magical  process,  must  correspond  to  moral  dispositions 
adapted  to  it  and  prepared  to  be  benefited  by  it.  The 
work  of  preparation  consists  in  the  development  of  these 
dispositions,  which  are  summed  up  in  the  desire  for 
salvation,  becoming  ever  more  intense  and  distinct  to  the 
consciousness.  To  make  man  realise  his  own  helpless- 
ness and  at  the  same  time  look  for  deliverance,  is  the 
sum  and  substance  of  the  work  of  preparation,  alike  in 
Judaism  and  paganism.  This  design  underlies  all  the 
institutions  of  the  Jews  and  all  their  religious  faith,  and 


CONCL  USION.  463 


comes  out  more  and  more  in  their  history.  The  conditions 
under  which  these  spiritual  aspirations  are  developed  are 
indeed  very  various,  but  even  this  variety  subserves  the 
end  in  view  and  never  effaces  its  identity. 

If  we  wish  to  determine  what  distinguishes  Judaism  as 
a  whole,  from  Paganism,  we  shall  observe  that  the  Jews 
alone  are  honoured  with  positive  divine  revelations.  They 
are  not,  on  that  account,  exempt  from  the  awful  ordeals  of 
free  will.  Their  very  position  of  privilege  lays  upon  them 
a  more  solemn  responsibility  which  makes  their  condemna- 
tion the  greater  whenever  they  fall  into  idolatry.  The 
Jew  is  not  treated  as  a  favourite  who,  offend  as  he  may,  is 
forgiven  beforehand  ;  rather  he  is  chosen  to  perform  a 
great  ministry  for  the  benefit  of  the  whole  world.  Hence 
he  is  doubly  guilty  if  he  fails  in  this.  Even  in  that  case 
he  will  not  be  utterly  consumed.  Punishment  is  never 
the  vengeance  of  a  jealous  God  ;  rather  is  it  the  rod  in 
the  hands  of  a  father.  The  Divine  goodness  never  ceases 
to  manifest  itself  to  the  chosen  people  in  a  peculiar 
manner,  both  by  present  deliverances  and  by  promises 
for  the  future.  It  is  none  the  less  true,  that  the  history 
of  the  Jews  does  not  differ  essentially  from  the  history 
of  mankind,  as  it  unfolds  itself  all  over  the  world,  with 
its  alternations  of  glory  and  shame,  triumph  and  defeat, 
light  and  shadow.  In  the  end  the  light  vanquishes  the 
darkness,  piercing  it  with  the  rays  of  dawn.  The  whole 
history  of  Israel  is  finely  symbolised  in  the  vision  of 
Elijah  in  the  cleft  of  Horeb,  when  the  "  still,  small 
voice "  which  speaks  to  his  heart  of  a  God  of  love,  is 
preceded  by  the  whirlwind,  the  earthquake  and  the 
consuming  fire.  The  Lord  manifests  Hmiself  first  in 
these  forms  of  terror,  in  order  to  break  down  the  resistance 
which  hinders  the  free  course  of  His  revelation  of  mercy. 
The  chosen  nation  has  to  be  placed  under  the  same  stern 
discipline  as  the  pagan  world,  because  it  also  has  revolted 
against  God,  frustrating  His  purposes  towards  it  by  its 
sins  and  follies,  and  obscuring,  though  it  could  not  ex- 
tinguish, the  pure  light  of  revelation.  We  must  never 
forget  that  the  august  truths  which  Israel  has  to  convey 
to  the  world,  reach  us  through  this  cften  faulty  and  dis- 
torted human  medium. 


464    THE  ANCIENT  JVORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

Not  only  is  the  revelation  made  to  the  Jews  given 
gradually,  so  as  to  be  adapted  to  their  stage  of  moral  and 
religious  development,  but  it  also  corresponds  in  its 
broader  phases  with  the  various  degrees  of  evolution  in 
the  pagan  world.  We  have  seen  how  that  world  was  left 
to  itself,  to  work  out  an  experience  by  which  it  came  to 
apprehend  something  of  the  true  God  and  of  His  merciful 
purposes  towards  it,  and  at  the  same  time  proved  its  own 
impotence  to  save  itself.  Doubtless  the  Spirit  of  God 
was  always  brooding  upon  the  waters,  and  acting  upon 
the  conscience  of  men  even  in  the  pagan  world,  and  the 
whole  course  of  history  was  controlled  by  His  sovereign 
will.  But  in  the  land  of  Judaea  there  was  not  only  more 
immediate  divine  direction,  but  also  a  positive  revelation. 
There  the  true  God  made  Himself  known  by  words  and 
deeds,  and  not  merely  through  the  phenomena  of  nature 
and  the  intuitions  of  the  human  soul.  It  was  needful  that 
there  should  be  at  least  one  land  purged  from  idolatry, 
where  Messiah  might  be  born  under  the  shadow  of  the  altar 
of  the  only  God.  It  was  needful  further,  that  the  desire 
after  salvation  should  be  freed  from  all  alloy,  and  should 
burn  as  a  pure  flame  in  sanctified  souls,  which  had  some 
apprehension  of  its  true  meaning.  Without  Judaism,  the 
expectation  of  the  God  of  the  future  would  have  been  too 
vague,  too  much  confused  with  lower  elements  ;  on  the 
other  hand,  without  the  anxious  seeking  after  God  in  the 
pagan  world,  the  desire  of  the  nations  would  have  been 
less  intense,  less  eager ;  it  would  not  have  been  the  des- 
pairing cry  of  a  world  that  had  laboured  in  vain  and 
spent  its  strength  for  rrought.  Thus  the  two  paths  by 
which  humanity  had  been  led  along,  converged  and  met 
at  last  in  that  highway  of  the  desert,  where  the  voice  was 
heard  crying  that  He  who  should  come  was  at  length 
come. 

We  must  not  forget  that  the  two  great  sections  into 
which  mankind  was  divided  religiously  before  the  coming 
of  Christ,  came  into  frequent  contact  on  that  soil  of  Asia 
which  was  the  battlefield  of  the  historic  nations  of  the 
old  world.  These  communications  became  more  frequent 
than  ever  on  the  eve  of  the  new  era.  The  sacred  books 
of  the  Jews   were  translated  in  Alexandria  and   entered 


I 


CONCL  USION.  465 


into  the  commerce  of  ideas  and  beliefs.  There  was  not 
an  important  city  of  the  Greco-Roman  world,  which  had 
not  its  synagogue.  In  this  intellectual  and  moral  exchange, 
the  Jews  not  only  gave,  they  also  received,  and  received 
much;  acquiring  not  indeed  any  moral  truths  higher 
than  they  already  possessed,  but  new  spiritual  impulses. 
Thus  without  detracting  anything  from  that  which  was 
directly  divine  in  their  religious  development,  we  observe 
that  it  always  corresponded  with  the  evolution  going  on  in 
paganism  generally,  by  which  it  was  being  purified  from 
its  baser  elements.  The  history  of  Israel  is,  in  a  word, 
the  history  of  the  human  conscience  in  the  ancient  world, 
as  that  conscience  became  illuminated  by  a  revelation 
which  was  ever  in  harmony  with  its  highest  aspirations. 
Thus  regarded,  Judaism  is  no  longer  an  exceptional  and 
arbitrary  development.  Its  history  is  not,  so  to  speak,  a 
Divine  coup  d'etat ;  it  is  rather  the  transfiguration  of  the 
general  history  of  the  ancient  world  in  the  period  of 
preparation.  We  find  in  it  the  same  halting-places  on 
the  long  pilgrimage  to  the  land  of  promise,  but  they  are 
shone  upon  with  a  light  from  heaven,  which  changes  the 
dim  twilight  of  the  soul  into  a  divine  day. 

The  institutions*  which  at  first  seem  to  lend  an  altogether 
exceptional  character  to  Judaism,  correspond  so  exactly 
to  the  needs  of  the  heart  of  man  in  this  period  of  prepara- 
tion, that  we  find  substantially  the  same  institutions  in 
that  Gentile  world  upon  which  the  Jews  looked  down  with 
scorn,  and  from  which  they  were  separated  by  impassable 
barriers.  The  same  spirit  of  separatism  ran  through  the 
whole  life  of  the  Jews,  and  was  expressed  in  the  setting 
apart  of  a  priestly  caste  (distinct  from  the  rest  of  the 
nation),  of  a  holy  day  and  a  holy  place.  By  this  trench- 
ant distinction  between  the  sacred  and  profane,  the  lesson 
was  forcibly  carried  home  that  the  ordinary  course  of  life, 
and  the  earthly  abode  of  man,  are  both  defiled  by  sin  till 
the  blessed  time  of  reconciliation  between  a  guilty  race  and 
God,  shall  have  come.  There  was  a  dim  prophecy  of  this 
glorious  consummation  in  these  institutions  themselves, 
which  were  all  to  be  merged  in  a  broader  universalism ; 
for  a  time  was  prophesied  when  all  men  would  be  priests 
to  God,  all  days  holy  days,  and  the  whole  earth  a  sanc- 

30 


466     THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

tuary.  If  we  look  closely,  we  shall  see  that  all  the  religious 
institutions  of  the  ancient  world  rested  on  the  same  sepa- 
ratist basis,  and  we  shall  observe  also  that  the  children  of 
Israel  passed  through  the  same  historical  vicissitudes  as 
other  nations. 

These  general  ideas  of  Judaism  are  confirmed  by  the 
details  of  its  religious  evolution,  on  which  we  cannot  now 
dwell.  We  have  said  enough  to  show  that  when  the  star 
of  the  first  Noel  ascended  in  silent  splendour  the  darkened 
skies,  the  fulness  of  the  time  was  come. 

Only  one  word  more  in  conclusion.  From  the  review 
we  have  taken  of  the  religious  evolution  of  the  ancient 
world,  it  seems  to  us  clear  that  the  Founder  of  the  religion 
of  the  Gospel  was  not  a  merely  historic  personage,  and 
that  that  religion  was  not  the  mere  confluence  of  the 
currents  of  earlier  religions.  We  have  certainly  not 
depreciated  the  partial  view  of  truth,  which  the  conscience 
had  come  to  apprehend  through  its  own  deeper  intuitions, 
or  through  the  stern  teaching  of  experience.  We  have 
freely  admitted  that  it  sometimes  set  before  itself  a  high 
moral  ideal.  It  had  some  perception  of  the  God  whose 
sacred  organ  it  is — a  God  distinct  from  the  world,  a 
living  and  personal  God,  at  once  holy  and  merciful.  It 
never  gave  up  a  belief  in  the  future  life ;  indeed  it  clung 
to  it  with  ever  growing  earnestness.  It  had  moreover 
some  intuitions  of  that  higher  morality,  which  sets  free 
from  the  bondage  of  mere  pietism,  and  recognises  that 
he  who  loves  God  must  love  mankind  also,  and  that  justice 
must  be  tempered  by  a  world-embracing  pity. 

We  gladly  acknowledge  these  testimonies  to  the  in- 
alienable kinship  of  man  to  a  God  greater  than  all  the 
idols  and  philosophic  creations  of  the  brain.  Nothing 
is  gained  for  the  Gospel  by  depreciating  and  vilifying 
human  nature  ;  for  in  its  depths,  however  tarnished  by 
sin,  lies  the  first  link  of  the  "  golden  chain  by  which  the 
whole  round  earth  is  every  way  bound  around  the  feet 
of  God."  What  we  have  to  do  is  to  eliminate  the  true 
from  the  false  by  a  careful  sifting  of  facts.  Now,  unless 
we  have  been  altogether  mistaken  as  to  the  religious  and 
philosophical  development  of  the  ancient  world,  it  seems 
to  us  clear,  that  while  it    may  at   times    have   caught  a 


CONCL  USION.  467 


glimpse  of  the  moral  ideal,  human  and  divine,  it  did 
no  more  than  this,  and  never  succeeded  in  permanently 
dispersing  the  clouds  which  intercepted  the  fair  vision. 
There  was  not  one  of  the  religions  of  pagan  antiquity, 
which  did  not  fall  back  from  the  heights  of  prophetic 
intuition  slowly  and  painfully  climbed,  into  the  old  panthe- 
istic naturism.  There  was  not  one  of  the  philosophers, 
not  even  Socrates  or  Plato,  who,  on  the  testimony  of  the 
fairest  and  most  impartial  historians,  ever  rose  above  the 
dualism  which  is  logically  the  negation  of  theism.  Nor 
did  the  belief  in  a  future  life  ever  attain  to  a  full  and 
satisfied  assurance.  Philosophy  never  got  beyond  the 
"  Perhaps"  of  Phaedo,  and  the  popular  beliefs  were  always 
marred  by  terrors  and  miserable  superstitions. 

Will  any  one  affirm  that  if  only  all  these  religions  and 
philosophies  had  been  fused  together  in  one  crucible  by 
Alexandrine  syncretism,  a  stream  of  pure  light  would  have 
been  produced  ?  We  ask  in  reply :  How  could  their 
fusion  have  supplied  that  which  was  lacking  to  them 
all  ?  With  regard  to  the  higher  morality,  which  endea- 
voured to  free  religion  from  superstition,  and  through 
the  lips  of  Cicero  and  Seneca,  spoke  constantly  of  a 
love  of  the  human  race,  we  have  seen  that  the  beacon 
thus  lighted  upon  the  chill  heights  of  an  esoteric 
philosophy,  only  shone  for  a  few  elect  souls,  and  even 
these  were  far  from  practising  what  they  professed.  The 
tide  of  degrading  superstition,  meanwhile,  rose  higher 
day  by  day.  An  implacable  despotism  asserted  the  brutal 
right  of  might  to  crush  the  weak,  and  to  make  a  stepping- 
stone  of  them  through  every  grade  of  the  social  hierarchy, 
from  the  home  of  the  private  citizen  to  the  palace  of  the 
Caesar. 

It  cannot  then  be  maintained,  even  if  religion  is  reduced 
to  a  mere  purified  theism,  that  the  pagan  world  in  its 
latest  stage  of  development  had  nothing  to  learn  from 
Christ.  Something  far  more  was  needed  than  a  mere 
theoretical  revelation  about  God  and  man.  The  whole 
ancient  world  felt  this,  and  this  is  the  noblest  aspect  of  its 
religious  evolution.  It  would  be  an  absolute  misconcep- 
tion of  the  meaning  of  that  evolution,  to  suppose  that  it 
was  only  tending  to  a  sort  of  natural  religion,  consisting 


468    THE  ANCIENl   WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

of  certain  dogmas,  imposed  by  infallible  authority.  On 
the  contrary,  its  great  characteristic  was  an  intense,  ardent 
faith  which  nothing  could  quench,  in  the  necessity  of  direct 
communication  with  the  mysterious  divinity  which  con- 
stantly eluded  its  grasp.  It  was  a  vehement  desire  amount- 
ing to  an  agony,  to  discover  some  sacrifice  which  might 
reconcile  an  offended  God,  and  bring  man  again  into  unity 
and  harmony  with  him.  Nor  did  this  desire  remain  a 
mere  sentiment.  It  became  embodied  in  positive  rites,  in 
forms  of  worship  which  represented  sometimes  the  terrors, 
sometimes  the  aspirations  of  the  awakened  conscience. 
That  for  which  the  ancient  world  cried  out  with  all  its 
voices  and  from  all  its  altars,  was  a  great  act  of  repara- 
tion ;  nay  more,  it  sought  for  a  God  who  should  be  at  once 
the  Author  of  reconciliation  and  its  surety.  As  this 
attempt  was  perpetually  renewed,  it  is  plain  that  it  had  not 
yet  achieved  its  end,  and  that  some  great  transaction  yet 
remained  to  take  place  between  earth  and  heaven.  Judaism 
itself  had  no  deliverance  to  bring ;  it  had  only  symbols 
and  promises.  To  assert,  therefore,  as  M.  Havet  does, 
that  Christianity  was  everywhere  present  in  a  state  of 
society  which  had  not  yet  received  Christ  in  person,  is  to 
misconceive  the  essential  character  of  the  new  religion. 
Its  idiosyncrasy  is  that  it  is  no  longer  a  promise  or  a 
foreshadowing,  but  the  actual  fulfilment  of  the  work  of 
Divine  love,  bringing  to  mankind  the  very  thing  which 
for  long  ages  it  had  been  vainly  striving  and  seeking 
after.  It  was  the  deepening  consciousness  of  the  failure 
of  all  its  own  efforts  and  weary  gropings  after  truth,  that 
made  the  world  the  more  ready  to  receive  Christianity  as 
the  gift  of  God. 

We  have  already  given  elsewhere  our  views  of  the 
world's  Deliverer.^  It  may  suffice  for  us  to  say  here  that 
in  our  view,  Christ  effectively  wrought  out  that  work  of 
reconciliation  which  was  the  felt  need  of  man.  He  set 
before  the  conscience  an  ideal  so  sublime,  and  yet  so  truly 
human,  that  it  satisfied  and  even  surpassed  man's  highest 
aspirations.  His  soul,  like  a  pure  mirror,  reflected  the 
image  of  God,  as  at  once  the  High  and  Holy  One,  and  our 

'  "'Jesus  Christ,  His  Life,  Times,  and  Work." 


CONCLUSION.  469 


Heavenly  Father.  Nor  did  He  only  bring  God  near  to 
man  in  this  new  and  tender  relation  ;  He  also  reconciled 
man  to  God,  making  peace  by  the  blood  of  His  cross. 
Though  He  was  put  to  death  by  the  hands  of  men,  who 
could  not  endure  the  presence  of  such  awful  holiness,  yet 
He  died  for  man  and  saved  him  by  His  dying,  offering  to 
God  as  man's  representative,  the  true  atoning  sacrifice  of 
love — the  full,  living  surrender  of  heart  and  life  and  will, 
sealed  by  His  blood.  A  light  never  to  fade  away  breaks 
upon  the  darkness  of  death,  as  the  stone  is  rolled  away 
from  the  sepulchre  on  the  first  Easter  morning,  and  He 
who  is  Himself  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life,  comes 
forth. 

The  Deliverer  is  at  length  come  !  He,  for  whom  the 
old  Chaldean  was  yearning,  when,  with  terror-stricken  con- 
science, he  used  the  incantation  to  his  seven  demons, 
and  weeping  for  his  sins,  called  upon  a  God  whom  he 
knew  not.  The  Deliverer  is  come  !  whom  Egypt  dimly 
foresaw  when  she  spoke  in  words  which  she  under- 
stood not,  of  a  God  who  was  wounded  in  all  the  wounds 
of  His  creatures.  The  Deliverer  is  come  !  for  whom  the 
magi  of  Iran  strained  their  eyes,  looking  for  a  Saviour 
greater  than  Zoroaster.  The  Deliverer  is  come  !  for 
whom  the  India  of  the  Vedas  panted  when  she  was  lifted 
for  a  moment  above  her  pantheism  by  the  intuition  of  a 
Holy  God — One  who  could  satisfy  the  burning  thirst  for 
pardon,  which  none  of  the  springs  of  her  own  religion 
would  avail  to  quench.  The  Deliverer  is  come  !  the  true 
Son  of  God,  who  alone  can  lead  mankind  to  battle  with 
full  assurance  of  victory  ;  the  God,  whose  image  dimly 
discerned,  had  floated  in  fantastic  incarnations  through  the 
waking  dreams  of  the  Brahman.  The  Deliverer  is  come  ! 
He  who  can  have  compassion  on  the  sufferer  and  on  all 
who  are  desolate  and  oppressed,  without  plunging  Himself 
and  the  whole  world  into  the  Buddhist  sea  of  annihilation. 
The  Deliverer  is  come  !  He  whom  Greece  had  pre- 
figured at  Delphi  and  at  Eleusis — the  God  who  saves 
because  He  also  has  suffered.  The  Deliverer  is  come ! 
He  who  was  foretold  and  foreshadowed  by  the  holy 
religion  of  Judaea,  which  was  designed  to  free  from  every 
impure   element,    the    universal    aspiration  of    mankind. 


470    THE  ANCIENT  WORLD  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 

He  has  come  to  obey,  to  love,  to  die,  and  by  dying  to 
save. 

Whether  men  will  have  it  so  or  no,  the  Cross  of  Christ 
divides  two  worlds,  and  forms  the  great  landmark  of  history. 
It  interprets  all  the  past ;  it  embraces  all  the  future  ; 
and  however  fierce  the  conflict  waged  around  it,  it  still  is, 
and  shall  be  through  all  the  ages,  the  symbol  of  victory. 


INDEX. 


Aborigines   of  India,  conflict  be- 
tween, and  Arj'ans,  144. 
Absolute  Good,  Plato's  idea  of,  373. 
Accadians,  25. 
Achaemenian  era,  123. 
Afoka,  Constantine   of  Buddhism, 

253- 

inscriptions  of,  254. 

proclaimed  liberty  of  worship, 

256. 
Aditya,  1S2. 

Adonis,  worship  of,  105. 
^gina  Marbles,  305. 
Agamemnon  of  jEschylus,  330. 
Agni,  god  of  fire,  150,  156. 
and  Soma,  always  associated, 

157- 

a  mediator,  165. 

Ahriman,  final  destruction  of,  135. 
Ahura  Mazda,  or  Ormazd,  125. 
Alcibiades,    rnfluence    of,    on     his 

generation,  346. 
Alexandria,  rise  of,  394. 
Alphabet,  invention  of,  95. 
Amesha  Spentas,  125,  127. 
Amphictyonic  Council,  the,  274. 
Amun,  god  of  Thebes,  63. 
Anaxagoras  of  Clazomenag,  351, 
Ancestors,  worship    of,    origin    of, 

1 8. 
Anciiorite,  highest  grade  of  Brah- 

manical  holiness,  210. 
Ancient  world,    had    a    perception 

of  God,  466. 
Ani,  Egyptian   scribe,   maxims    of, 

81, 
Animal  types,  predominance  of,  in 

Egypti  73- 
Animal-worship,  in  Egypt,  73. 


Animism,  or  spiritism,  15. 

basis  of  Egj'ptian  religion,  52. 

Anthropolog)',  Egyptian,  70. 

Anthropology  of  Buddhism,  234. 

Anthropomorphism,  primitive,  18. 

Antigone,  334. 

Anti-Messiah,  Buddha  the,  258. 

Aphrodite,  282. 

Apollo  (Phoebus),  281, 

worship  of,  296. 

development  of  myth  of,  297. 

Apollonius  of  Tyana,  437. 

Architecture,  Greek,  306. 

Areopagus,  the,  273. 

Ares  (Mars),  282. 

Aristotelian  system  and  Platonism, 

385- 

failed  to  explain  dualism,  389. 

Aristotle,  philosophy  of,  385. 
presupposes  freedom  of  will, 

390. 
Arsacides,  124. 
Art,  Chaldeo-Assyrian,  49. 

decadence  of  Greek,  402. 

development    of,    in    Greece, 

304- 

devotion  to,  effect  of,  on  the 

Greeks,  345. 

Egyptian,  realistic,  89. 

era  of  Greece,  the  great,  306. 

Imperial  Roman,   aspirations 

expressed  by,  432. 

Phoenician,  heavy  and  form- 
less, 108. 

Artemis,  281, 

Aryans,  description  of  original  seat 
of,  114. 

of  India,  144;  characteristics 

of,  145. 


472 


INDEX. 


Aryans,  on  the  shore  of  the  Ganges, 
i88. 

■ primitive,     beyond    animistic 

period,  Ii8. 

primitive  seat  of,  1 1 3. 

social  and  religious  life 

of,  119. 

religious  life  of  the  early,  117. 

state    of  society    among    the 

primitive,  1 16. 
words  common  to  all  in  dis- 
persion, 115. 
Asceticism,  not  required  by  Egyp- 
tian religion,  71. 
Asia,  battle-field  of  nations  of  Old 

World,  464. 
A.ssyrian   history,   its  influence  on 
religion,  42. 

kings,  monuments  of,  43. 

■ religion,    the,    41  ;    character 

of,  50. 
Astarte,  character  of,  99. 
Asuras,  173. 
Asvins,  153. 

Athena,  v-orship  of,  299. 
Athene  (Minerva),  281. 
Athens,    civilisation    of,    described 
by  Thucydides,  302. 

decline  of,  393. 

position  of,  301. 

Atman,  the  divine,  194. 
Atomistic  school,  the,  354. 
Atonement,     idea      of,     in     Vedic 

hymns,  i79- 
Atys,  or  Adonis,  mj'th  of,  106. 
Augury,  Roman,  410. 
Augustus,    attempt    of,   to    restore 
religion,    hindered    by   his    life, 
421,  423. 

Bacch;e,  the,  of  Euripides,  327. 
Bactria    and    Sogdiana,    contrasts 

betv^een,  122. 
Beauty,  a  gift  of  Greece,  268. 
Book  cf  the  Dead,  period  of,  56. 
Brahma,  rise  of,  190. 
■  glorification  of,  in  the  Upan- 

ishads,  195. 
Brahman,  preparation  for  the-ofiice 

of,  203. 
Brahmanaspati,  169. 
Brahmanical  ritual,  192. 
Brahmanism,  evolution  of,  193. 
sequence  of  religion  of  Vedic 

poets,  148. 


Brahmans,   exaltation   of,   in    laws 

of  Manu,  201. 
scribes  of  the  Indian  religion, 

191. 
Buddha,  a  response  to  the  cry  for 

a  deliverer,  224. 
birth  and  family,  226. 

character  of,  227. 

devotedness  of,  243. 

dissatisfied  with  the  teaching 

of  the  Brahmans,  229. 

moral  teaching  of,  236. 

secret  of  his  power,  231. 

temptation  of,  230. 

Buddha's  way  of  final  deliverance, 

232. 
Buddhism,  148. 
a  development,  222. 

a  preparation,  259. 

distinction  between  early  and 

later,  225. 

doctrine  of  despair,  225. 

hopeless  paradox  of,  246. 

manual  of,  249. 

mythological  side  of,  250. 

primitive,    development    and 

transfoimation  of,  246. 
Burial,  in  ancient  Rome,  414. 
By  bios,  worship  at,  105. 

Cabirim,  the,  loi. 

Caesar,  effect  of  apotheosis  of,  423. 

Carncades,  teaching  of,  400. 

Canaanites,  the,  96. 

Caste,  origin  of,  189. 

Cathenotheism,  149. 

Cave-man,    similar    to    savages    of 

present  era,  7- 
Central  America, ancient  religion, 20. 
Ceres,  legend  of,  320. 
Chaldca,  excavations  in,  24  n. 

• primitive  religion  of,  25. 

religious  evolution  in,  24, 

beliefs  of  old,  resemble  those 

of  savages  of  to-day,  13. 
Chaldean,  gods,  36. 
magic,  fragment  from,  33. 

narratives,  value  of,  31. 

traditions    of    Creation    and 

Deluge,  27. 

Chaldeo-Assyrian,  historj^, — three 
periods,  26. 

religion,     first    animism, 

32  ;  three  periods  of  de- 
velopment of,  31' 


INDEX. 


Ml 


Chaldeo-Babylonian  religion,  sum- 
mary of,  40. 

Chaos,  2S7. 

Charity,  recognition  of,  by  religion 
of  Iran,  139. 

Chastity,  under  Laws  of  Manu,  206. 

China,  primitive  religion  of,  19. 

Choephori,  the,  -^12,1  335- 

Christian  era,  attitude  of  expectancy 
at,  460. 

Christ,  the  Deliverer,  469. 

Chronos  (Saturn),  2S7. 

Chthonian  gods,  worship  of,  321. 

Cicero,  morals  of,  441. 

philosophy  of,  440. 

City,  the  Greek,  272. 

Civa,  211,  213. 

Civilisation  in  Eg3^pt,  57. 

Clement,  confession  of,  460. 

Commerce  of  PhcEnicia,  109. 

Condition,  actual,  of  man,  Plato's 
view  of,  377. 

Conscience,  appealed  to  by  law^s 
of  Manu,  208. 

witness  of,  87;  in  Phoenicia, 

109. 

Cosmogony,  Brahmans'  confused 
attempt  at,  194. 

of  the  laws  of  Manu,  215. 

Councils,  Buddhist,  253. 

Cj'clops,  the,  287. 

Creation,  Egyptian  idea  of,  66. 

Cremation,  162. 

Crisis,  indications  of  a  great,  437. 

Cuneiform  writing,  26  n. 

Darmestetter,  J.,  on  "Ormazd  et 
Ahriman,"  124  ;/. 

Death,  a  mystery  to  early  ages  and 
present  savage  peoples,  6. 

how  regarded  by  the  Egyp- 
tians, 74. 

idea  of,  to  Sj'ro-Phcenicians, 

104. 

in  the  Vedas,  165. 

Decadence  of  Greek  literature,  401. 

Defect  in  Egyptian  religion,  the,  85. 

Dei  Manes,  408. 

Deities,  secondary,  of  Rome,  409. 

Deity,  manifestations  of,  in  Egypt, 
66. 

Delphi,  Oracle  of,  298. 

Deluge,  Chaldean  story  of,  28. 

Demeter,  282. 

Homeric  hymn  to,  319. 


Demons,    power     ascribed     to,    in 

Chaldea,  33. 
Demosthenes,  393. 
Destiny  of  Man,  storj'  of,  by  Hesiod, 

291. 
Development  of  religious  life,  like 

the  natural,  10. 
Dionysus,  eflcct  of  worship  of,  325. 

story  of,  not  mere  legend,  326. 

S3'mbol  of  the  better  life,  324. 

Dionysus,  or  Bacchus,  worship  of, 

321. 
Divergence,     point      of,    between 

Aryans  of  Iran  and  India,  145. 
Divine  freedom,  supreme  act  of  the, 

XXV. 

Divinities,  Roman  abstract,  409. 
Dualism,    characteristic     trait     of 

religion  of  Iran,  126. 
Dyaus,  heaven-god,  152. 

Egypt,  derivation  of  name  of,  54. 

description  of,  52. 

• divisions  of,  55. 

fixitj',  characteristic  of,  55. 

influence  on  developments  of 

religion  in  the  East,  52. 

Pharisaic  nation  of  antiquity, 

84. 

religious  capitals  of,  58. 

retrogression  of  religion  of,  88. 

Egj'ptian    king,    personification   of 
supreme  God,  72. 

symbols,  gross,  72. 

Elean  school,  the,  353. 
Eleusis,  the  Mj'steries  of,  309. 
Empedocles,  philosophy  of,  356. 
Emperors  of  Rome,  apotheosis  of, 

while  living,  433. 
Epictetus,  philosophy  of,  446. 
Epicureans,  the,  397. 
Erinnj'es,  or  Euries,  321. 
Esmun,  Phoenician  god,  loi. 
Eternal  life,  an  Egyptian  belief,  80. 
Eumenides,  the,  334,  337. 
Euripides,  influence  of,  339. 
Evolution,  not  merely  mechanical, 

xxii. 
Exorcism^  Chaldean  form  of,  34. 
Expiation,    idea    of,    prominent   in 

^schylus,  336. 

Fall,  Chaldean  symbolism  of,  27. 
Family  life,  under  Brahmanic  legis- 
lation, 205. 


474 


INDEX. 


Fate,  the  gods  subject  to,  2S6. 

Fates,  the,  289. 

Fatherland,  religious  character   of 

the  Roman,  413. 
Fetishes,  design  of,  16. 
Fetishism  on  Gold  Coast,  16. 
Fire,   important  part    assigned    to, 
in  religion  of  Rome,  408. 

■ worship  of,  13 1. 

Foreign    superstitions,    inclination 

towards,  in  Imperial  Rome,  436. 
Free-will,  according  to  Plato,  376. 

under  religion  of  Iran,  136. 

Funeral  inscriptions,  Egyptian,  83. 
Future    life,   conception  of,  in  As- 
syria, 49. 

early  intuitions  of,  4. 

notions  of  the   Homeric 

period,  312. 
Pindar's  view  of,  313. 

Gautama  (Buddha),  death  of,  245. 
Gautama's     (Buddha's)     interview^ 

with  his  father,  244. 
Genii,  Roman  belief  in,  409. 
God's  designs,  carrying  out  of,  in 

history,  462. 
Gods,    imitation    of,    a    feature    of 
Phoenician  religion,  102. 

multitude  in  Egypt,  69. 

of  Assyria,    moral  aspects  of, 

45- 

Goethe,  on  influence  of  Phidias, 
308. 

Good  and  Evil,  conflict  between, 
in  religion  of  Iran,  128. 

■ identified  in  Vtdic  reli- 
gion,  181. 

Gospel  of  Annihilation,  223. 

Greco-Roman  gods,  degradation  of 
the  old,  434. 

paganism,  remarkable  con- 
trasts of  society,  419. 

Greece,  political  and  social  con- 
stitution of,  272. 

and  Persia,  conflict  between, 

275- 

description  of,  271. 

eflect  of  conquest  of,  on  Rome, 

417. 

moral  conception  of,  269. 

Greek,  myths,   common   origin    of, 

280. 
transformation  of  naturism  in, 

263. 


Greek,  cultus,  primarily  worship  of 

ancestors,  292. 
religion,  dark  aspect  of,  290  ; 

moral  superiority  of,  265. 
Greeks,  origin  of,  266. 

Havet,  M.,  view  of  Platonism,  384. 

Hellenes,  the,  267. 

Hellenic    race,  characteristic  traits 

of,  268. 
Hellenism,  and   Christianity,  con- 
trast between,  xx. 

decadence  of,  393. 

Hephtestus  (Vulcan),  281. 

Heracleitiis,  philosophy  of,  354. 

Hercules,  legend  of,  343. 

Here  (Juno),  281. 

Heroes,  in  Roman  pantheon,  409. 

Hesiod,  cosmogony  of  the,  286. 

Hestia  (Vesta),  281. 

Hieroglyphic  writing,  character  of, 

58. 
Hittites,  the,  96. 
History,  before  Christ,  aim  of,  xxvi. 

dualism  of,  xxiv. 

Holiness,  characteristic  of  Varuna, 

176. 
Homeric,  epics,  imagery  of  the,  284. 

god,  the,  283. 

Human,  destin}',  view  of,  in  ^schy- 
lus  and  Sophocles,  330. 

sacrifice,  in  Greece,  294. 

Humanism,  Greek,  xxx. 

great  factor  in  Greek  religion, 

270. 
highest  development  in  Greece, 

329- 

in  poetry  of  Pindar,  314. 

tendency  in  early  stages,  278. 

true,  in  Greece,  264. 

Hymns,  Chaldeo-Assyrian,  46. 

Iacchus,  328. 

Identification  of  man  with  his  god, 

beyond  the  grave,  86. 
Idolatry,  an  advance  on  fetishism, 

Immortality,  faith  in,  expressed  in 

the  Vedas,  162. 
Incarnation  of  Indian  god,  219. 
Incarnations    of   Vishnu,    purpose 

of,  221  n. 
Indra,  166. 

bond  between  man  and,  169, 

hymns  to,  170. 


INDEX. 


475 


Indra,  national  god  of  the  Aryans, 

i68. 
Instinct  of  immortality,  Qiiinet  on, 

5- 
Iran,  description  of,  121. 

influence  of  religion  of,  137. 

intuitions  of  religion  of,  140. 

Isocrates,  panegyric  of,  3I9- 
Ized,  the,  127. 

Judaism,  and  Paganism,  distinction 
between,  463. 

effects    of,    on  Greco-Roman 

world,  465. 
Justice;  idea  of,  underlies  all  social 
constitution,  II. 

Kapila,    author    of    the    Sankhya 

philosophy,  19S. 
Karma,  doctrine  of,  235. 
Kings,  worship  of,  44. 

Lalita-Vistara,  247. 

Lament  over  dead  child  New 
Zealand,  8. 

Language,  the  Greek,  270. 

Law,  majesty  of,  in  Rome,  415. 

Legends,  Buddhist,  247. 

Light  and  Darkness,  battle  be- 
tween, 37. 

Literature,  of  Greece,  change  in, 
400. 

Roman,  decay  of,  430. 

Lucetins,  407. 

Lucretius,  use  of  Epicureanism  by, 
442. 

Lyric  poetry,  Greek,  rise  of,  303. 

Magi,  influence  of,  121. 
Mahabharata,  the,  212. 
Man,  Aristotle's  idea  of,  388. 
Egyptian  idea   of   his  origin 

and  destiny,  69. 
never  sinks  to  level  of  beast, 

7- 

part  of,   in  conflict    between 

Ormazd  and  Ahriman,  137. 
Manes,  worship  of,  292. 
Mantic  art,  diiferent  from  priestly 

office  in  Greece,  293. 
Manu,  163. 

laws  of,  199. 

Marathon  and  iSalamis,  275. 
Maspero,  M.,  description  of  Eg3'p- 

tian  rites  of  burial,  76. 


Max  Miiller,  on  Fetishism,  16. 

on  Veda  and  Zend  Avesta,  1 86 

Maruts,  167. 

Medes  and  Persians,  struggle  be- 
tween, 122. 

Mediator-god,  in  Chaldea,  38. 

Memorabilia  of  Xenophon,  360  et 
seq. 

Memphite  period,  56. 

Mendicants,  Buddhist  order  of,  257. 

Buddhist,     qualification     for, 

238. 

Messiah,  not  looked  for  in  Egypt, 

85- 

of  the  Brahmans,  21 1. 

Indian,  not  a  true  deliverer, 

220. 

Mexico,  ancient  religion  of,  20. 

Monastic  system,  Buddhist,  239. 

Monkeys,  represent  good  genii,  219. 

Monks,  Buddhist,  251. 

Monolithism,  characteristic  of 
Phoenician  art,  108. 

Monotheism,  in  Egypt,  61. 

traces  of,  everywhere,  II. 

Monuments,  Egyptian,  character- 
istic of,  90. 

Moral  idea,  alien  to  worship  of 
Agni  and  Soma,  164. 

Morality,  a  lofty,  throughout  Egyp- 
tian religion,  80. 

Morals,  Brahmanical  system  of,  209. 

Muses,  the  Nine,  289. 

Mysteries  of  Eleusis,  319. 

Myth,  the,  277. 

of  Adonis,  lower   aspects  of, 

107. 

of      Osiris,     Herodotus     and 

Plutarch  on,  67. 

Mj'thology,  Roman,  moral  and 
historic,  416. 

Name  of  the  God,  power  of,  37. 
National    religions,    decomposition 

of  the  old,  420. 
Natural  life,  symbol  of  moral  life, 

in  Egypt,  62. 
Nature-gods    of    Indian    theodicy, 

151- 

Nature,  influence  of,  on  develop- 
ment of  religion  in  Syria,  98. 

worship,  XXX. 

Naturism,  animism,  anthropomor- 
phism, three  stages  of  develop- 
ment, 14- 


476 


INDEX. 


Natunsm,    animist    phase    of,   per- 

Perrot, M.,  on  Phoenician  rites,  103. 

petuated  in  Egypt,  59. 

Peru,  ancient  religion  of,  20. 

causes  of  transformation    of. 

Phaedo,  363. 

in  Greece,  265. 

Phidias,  masterpieces  of,  307. 

deliverance  of  Greece  from, 276. 

Philistines,  religion  of,  same  as  of 

first   form  of  religious   senti- 

Canaanites, 97. 

ment,  14. 

Philosophers,    mission    of    Greek, 

highest  point  reached  in  China 

347- 

and  South  America,  21. 

Philosophical   systems,  connection 

perpetuated  fatalism,  279. 

between,  349. 

supplemented  by  animism,  15. 

Philosophy,     essentially    religious, 

Nemesis,  321. 

365. 

New  Academy,  the,  440. 

failure  of,  467. 

Night,  invocation  of,  153. 

failure  of,  in  Rome,  439. 

Nineveh,  great  winged  bulls  of,  315. 

Greek,  a  preparation  for  Chris- 

Nirvana, 234. 

tianity,  348. 

"  Noble  Path,"  of  Buddhism,  237. 

in    first    period    purely 

Numen,  the,  406. 

naturalistic,  350. 

stages  of  first  evolution, 

Odes  of  Pindar,  313  f^  seq. 

351- 

Odyssey,  the  notion  of  deity  in  the. 

impotent  to  save  the  ancient 

285. 

world,  452. 

CEdipus,  at  Colonus,  338. 

review  of  schools  of,  453. 

Sophocles' descriptionof  death 

Phoenician,  mission,  to  circulate  re- 

of, 338- 

ligious  belief,  no. 

Offerings,    in    the    period    of    the 

religion,  character  of,  94. 

Vedas,  161. 

worship,  twofold  character  of, 

Olympic  games,  29S. 

99. 

Ormazd     and     Ahriman,     decisive 

Phoenicians,    influence    of,    on  the 

conllict  betv/een,  128. 

early  Greeks,  267, 

Orpheus,  322. 

origin  of,  95. 

Orphic,     doctrine,     like     Oriental 

Pierret,     M.,    on     Monotheism    in 

pantheism,  323. 

Egypt,  61  n. 

gnosticism,  chief  merit  of,  328. 

Pindar,  human  morality  of,  317. 

hymns,  322. 

■  period  of,  303. 

society,  322. 

Pitris,  163. 

Osiris,  myth  of,  59. 

Piyadasi  (A^oka),  254  n. 

the  human,  and  of  the  heavens, 

Plato,    an  inspired  apostle  of  the 

70. 

moral  idea,  382. 

Paganism,    retained    elements     of 

completed  the  work  of  Socra- 

truth, XX. 

tes,  3S3. 

Panathensea,  the,  300. 

Dialogues  of,  361. 

Pantheism,   at  basis  of  religion  of 

disciple  of  Socrates,  368. 

Egypt,  65. 

fervent  love  of,  for  truth,  369. 

prevailing  idea  of  Vedas,  147. 

period  of,  368. 

Pantheistic  tendency  in  Rome,  439. 

system  of,  370. 

Parables,  and  Sermons,  of  Buddha, 

Platonism,  a  preparation  for  Chris- 

240. 

tianity,  381. 

Parmenides,  idealism  of,  353. 

and     Christianity,    difference 

Patna,  Council  of,  253. 

and  distance  between,  38 1. 

Pelasgi,  the,  266. 

protest    of  the  spirit   against 

Penates,  worship  of,  414. 

the  flesh,  3S4. 

Pericles,  influence  of,  300. 

■  radical  error  of,  372. 

religious  sentiment  at  close  of 

Plato's    ideal    Republic,    cause    of 

the  age  of,  344. 

errors  in,  3S0. 

INDEX. 


477 


Plato's  sj'stem  of  morals,  outcome 
of,  379. 

Plutarch,  felt  need  of  a  mediator, 
451. 

his      faith      in      immortalitj', 

450. 

object  of  his  writings,  449. 

teaching  otj  44S. 

Pluto,  282. 

Polygnotus,  paintings  of)  at  Delphi, 
308. 

Polycletus,  308. 

Poseidon,  2S2. 

Prajapati,  name  for  the  sun,  183. 

Prayer,  place  of,  in  Chaldean  wor- 
ship, 39. 

Prayers,  in  Rig  Veda,  154. 

Praxiteles,  308. 

Pre-historic  man,  tokens  of  his 
superiority,  3. 

Preparation,  object  of  the  work  of, 
xxviii. 

Priest  of  Ormazd,  129. 

Priesthood,   Greek,   not    exclusive, 

.  293- 

in  Chaldea,  39. 

Priestly  caste,  absence  of,  in  Rome, 

412. 
Primeval  religion,  traces  of,  9. 
Prodigal  Son,  Buddhist  parable  of, 

241. 
Prometheus  Bound,  explanation  of, 
340. 

explanation  of  myth  of,  289. 

figure  of  guilty  man,  343. 

Prose  writers,  Greek  rise  of  school 

of,  304. 
Proserpine,  282. 
Prostitution,  great  feature  in  ^yro- 

Phoenician  religion,  103. 
Purification,    element    in    religious 

intuition,  12. 
Purity,  sacred  duty,  in  religion  of 

Zoroaster,  130. 
Pythagorean  School,  352. 

QuATREFAGES,  M.,  on  belief  in  a 
future  life,   5.  , 

Quirinus,  407. 

Ra,    hymn    to,    in    "  Book    of   the 

Dead,"  68. 
Rajagriha,  Council  of,  253. 
Ramayana,  the,  212. 
Ranke,  on  mission  of  Persia,  138. 


Rawlinson,  Sir  Henry,  translations 

of,  from  Nineveh,  32. 
Reconciliation,    the    felt    need    of 

man,  468. 
Redemption,  the  motto  of  history, 

xxvii. 
Religion,    does    not    spring    from 

nature,  9. 
part  of  higher  life  of  man,  12. 

no  spot  on  earth  where  in- 

fluence not  felt,  8. 
Religions,  task  assumed  by  all,  xxi. 
Religious,  history  of  ancient  world, 

pauses    and    retrogressions 

in,  22. 
idea,  evolved,  not  originated, 

15- 
Remorse,  power  of,    described  by 

/Eschylus,  335. 
Rhys  Davids,  on  Buddhism,  232. 
Rhodes,  productions  of  school  of^ 

403- 
Rig  Veda,  149  n. 
River  gods  of  Rome,  408. 
Roman,  Empire,  condition  of  social 

life  under,  426. 

gods,  the,  406,  407. 

people,  solidarity  of,  404. 

• religion,  first  elements  of,  405. 

Rome,  after  conquest  of  Carthage, 

416. 
condition  of,    at  close  of  Re 

public,  424. 

Imperial,  prominence  of  Ori- 

ental elements  in  religion  of, 

432- 

m.oral  degradation  of,  427. 

myth  of  the  foundation  of,  413. 

rise  of,  403. 

Rudra,  167. 

Sacred,  formulas,  importance  at- 
tached to,  in  Egypt,  60. 

study,  importance  of,    to    the 

Brahman,  204. 

Sacrifice,  importance  attached  to, 
under  Vedas,  160. 

• in  Chaldean  worship,  39. 

in  Greek  religion,  294. 

place  of,  in  religion  of  Zoro- 
aster, 130, 

Sacrifices,  gods  of  the,  156. 

Sakuntala,  idyll  of,  217. 

Sanctuaries  of  Egypt,  the  cities  of 
the  dead,  74,  92. 


478 


INDEX. 


Sanscrit,  witness  to  common  origin 

of  Aryans,  113. 
Sarzec,  M.  de,  excavations  at  Tello, 

41  n. 
Sassanides,  overthrow  of,  124. 
Savage,  religion  of  tlie,  10. 
Sceptical  school,  rise  of,  396. 
Scepticism,    Alexandria  cradle    of 

universal,  395. 
Sculpture,  Assyrian,  50. 

Greek,  305. 

• Egyptian,  92 

Semones,  or  Indigetes,  406. 
Senart,  M.,  "La  legende  de  Boud- 

dha,"  257  n. 
Seneca,    on    condition    of    Roman 

world,  429  et  seq. 
the     incarnation    of     Roman 

Stoicism,  444. 
Serpent,     allusion    to,    in    Indian 

religion,  219. 
Sidereal    gods,    conception    of,    in 

Phoenicia,  100. 
Sin,  acknowledgment  of,  47. 
sense    of,    expressed    in    the 

Vedas,  177. 
■ never  dominant  in  Egj^pt, 

88. 
Smith,  G.,  Assyrian  discoveries  of, 

27. 
Socrates,    foundation    of    morality 

of,  367. 
his  teaching  a  protest  against 

sophistr}',  362,  364. 
influence  of,  on  his  disciples, 

361. 
not  wholly  free  from  dualism, 

366. 

personal  history  of,  358. 

school  of,  357, 

secret  of  his  pow^er,  359. 

Socratic  method  allied  to  the  doc- 
trine, 364. 
Solon,  Constitution  of,  272. 
Soma,  god  of  sacred  libations,  150. 
Sophists,  the,  356. 

service  of  the,  357. 

Soul,  Egyptian  idea  of  vicissitudes 

of,  after  death,  75- 
pleading   of,  from  "  Book    of 

the  Dead,"  82. 

ofthe  just,  delivery  of  the,  134. 

Sower,  Buddhist  parable  of,  241. 
Stars,    worship    of,    extension    of 
fetishism,  i7- 


State,    constitution    of,   under    the 

Brahmanic  legislation,  207, 
Stoicism,  of  Zeno,  398. 

Roman,  443. 

Stoics,  the,  397. 

Subterranean  gods  of  the  Romans, 

408. 
Suetonius,  on  expectation  from  the 

East,  437. 
Sumirs,  25. 

Sun,  Vedic  worship  of,  149. 
Supernatural,    man's   first    feeling 

after  the,  5. 
Superstition,  Roman  definition  of, 

411. 

Tacitus,    description    of    state    of 

Rome  by,  426. 
Talisman,  Chaldean,  35. 
Tarcchites,  the,  96. 
Temple,  Egyptian,   description  of, 
90. 

the  Greek,  305. 

Temples,  Chaldeo-Assyrian,  49. 

of  Syria,  109. 

Thales,  the  Milesian,  351. 

Theaetetus,  363. 

Theism,  failure  of,  to  satisfy  man, 

467. 
Themis,  288. 

Theocracy,  a  genuine,  in  Peru,  20. 
Theodicy,  of  Egypt,  leading  features 
of,  64. 

■ of  Socrates,  character  of,  366. 

Theognis,  Maxims  of,  310. 

Thcogony,  Hesicd,  28S. 

Three  Chariots,  Buddhist   parable 

of  the,  242. 
Titans,  conflict  with  the,  287. 
Tragedy,  Greek,  329. 
Transmigration,  doctrine  of,  201. 
Trepanning,  Broca  on  prehistoric,  5. 
Triad,   Egyptian,  identity  of  gods 
of,  65. 

the  Phoenician,  lOl. 

Tuklat-abal-asar,    inscriptions    of, 

43- 
Jutelary  gods  of  the  Romans,  407. 
Typhon,  destruction  of,  287 

Unbelief,    common    in    the    later 

Roman  world,  434. 
Unity,  man  enters  the  great  divine, 

159- 
Unknown  God,  the  feeli.'gr.fter,455. 


INDEX. 


479 


Uranus,  287. 

Ushas,  the  dawn,  152. 

Vaisali,  Council  of,  253. 
Varro,  teaching  of,  421. 
Varuna,  150. 

a  pitying  father,  179. 

hymns  to,  174. 

of  the  Vedas,  172. 

the  Vedic,  119. 

Vedanta,  result  of  the  speculation 

of  the,  200. 
Vedas,   knowledge  of,   a  purifying 

flame,  205. 
Vedic  religion,  close  of,  181. 
Vendidad,    sacred    book    of    Iran, 

121. 
Virgil,  christianised  in  early  legend, 

459- 
presentiment  of  a  great  crisis 

in,  458. 

representative  of  his  age,  456. 

unknowingly   prepared    way 

for  Christianity,  459. 
Vishnu,  211. 


Vishnu,  and  Pushan,  sun-gods,  155. 

various  appellations  of,  213. 

confounded  with  Krishna,  214. 

Visvakarman,  184. 
Vivasvat,  163. 
Vritra,  166. 

World-life,  or  soul,  described  in 
Plato's  Timaeus,  374. 

Worship,  on  earth,  repetition  of 
heavenly,   159. 

Roman,  character  of,  formal- 
ism, 410. 

XisuTHRUs,  Chaldean  king  =  Noah, 
28. 

YiMA,  the  first  man,  132. 
Yoga,  system  of,  196. 

Zend-Avesta,  126  n. 
ZeuS'rDyaus  (Jupiter),  280. 
Zoroaster,  deification  of,  133. 

doctrine    of,   ruling   religion, 

124. 


STANDARD    RELIGBOUS   WORKS. 

IS  THERE  SALVATION  AFTER  DEATH? 

A  Treatise  on  the  Gospel  In  the  Intermediate  State. 

By  E.  D.  Morris,  D.D.,  LL.D.,  Professor  in  Lane  Theological  Sem- 
inary, Cincinnati.     Crown  8vo,  cloth,  $1.25.     2d  Edition. 

N.  Y.  Observer  says  :  "The  various  views  are  stated  with  fairness  and  precision, 
the  specific  passages  of  Scripture,  bearing  upon  the  subject,  are  carefully  considered, 
afwell  as  the  general  testimony  of  Scripture  in  relation  to  it.  We  commend  the 
volume  to  ministers  and  teachers." 

N.  Y.  Evangelist  :  "  Clear  in  method  and  cogent  in  argument,  it  is  saturated 
throughout  with  the  large  literature  of  its  subject,  is  free  from  all  acerbity  and  un- 
fairness, and  is  loyal  to  God's  Word  as  the  final  test  of  Christian  truth.  It  will  settle 
doubt  and  confirm  faith." 

THE    HUMILIATION   OF  CHRIST 

In  its  Physical,  Ethical,  and  Official  Aspects. 

(Being  the  Sixth  of  the  Cunningham  Lectures.)     By  Rev.  A.  B.  Bruce, 
D.D.     Octavo,    cloth,    gilt   top,   $2.50.      Uniform  with  the  same 
author's    "Parabolic     Teaching    of    Christ,"    and    "Miraculous 
Element  itt  the  Gospels." 
"  These  lectures  are  well  worthy  of  the  name  they  bear,  and  of  their  precursors 
in  the  scries  ;  and  the  book  in  which  they  are  published,  with  ample  notes  and  refer- 
ences, will  be  valuable  to  theologians,  supplying  a  want  in  the  literature  of  the  subject, 
and  containing  viany  fruitful  germs  of  thought.     Dr.  Bruce' s  style  is  tiniformly 
clear  and  vigorous,  and  this  book  has  the  rare  advantage  of  being  at  once  stimulating 
and  satisfying  to  the  mind  in  a  high  degree.     He  has  given  us  a  book  that  will  really 
advance  the  theological  understanding  of  the  great  truth  that  forins  its  subject" — 
British  and  Foreign  Evangelical  Review. 

The  English  Churchman  says:  "The  title  of  the  book  gives  but  a  faint  Concep- 
tion of  the  value  and  wealth  of  its  contents Dr.  Brace's  work  is  really  one 

of  exceptional  value  ;  and  no  one  can  read  it  without  perceptible  gam  in  theological 
knowledge." 

H.  GRATTAN  GUINNESS'S  NEW  WORK, 

ROMANISM   AND   THE    REFORMATION 

FROM  THE  STANDPOINT  OF  PROPHECY. 

By   author  of  the   "  Approachitig  End  of  the  Age"  etc.      i2mo,   400 

pages,  cloth,    $1.50. 

Contents  :  Daniel's  Foreview  of  Romanism — John's  Foreview  of  Romanism-^ 
Paul's  Foreview  of  Romanism — Interpretation  of  this  Triple  Prophecy  in  Pre-Refor- 
mation  Times,  and  its  Practical  Effect — Its  Interpretation  in  Post-Reformation  Times, 
and  Practical  Effect — Double  Foreview  of  the  Reformation  in  Old  Testament  Types, 
and  New  Testament  Prophecies. 

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absorbing  interest;  its  clearness  and  force  appeal  powerfully  to  the  mind,  and  its 
literary  style  makes  it  charming  reading.  Mr.  Guinness  is  a  master  ol  beautiful 
English,  and  possesses  a  singular  power  of  putting  his  conceptions  into  transparent 
form." 

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4 


REV.  DR.  ALEXANDER  BRUCE'S  WORKS. 

THE  MIRACULOUS  ELEMENT  lU  THE  GOSPELS. 

By  Alexander  Balmain  Bruce,  D.D.,  Author  of   "The  Parabolic 
Teaching  of  Christ."     8vo,  cloth.    $2.50, 

This  work,  though  constructed  on  a  different  method,  may  be  regarded  as  a  com- 
panion to  my  work  on  The  Parabolic  Teaching  of  Christ,  published  a  few  years 
ago.  In  the  Fifth  and  Sixth  Lectures  I  have  considered  from  my  point  of  view,  at 
considerable  length,  a  large  number  of  the  miraculous  narratives,  and  made  observa- 
tions on  nearly  the  whole  of  the  narratives  of  this  character  contained  in  the  Gospels. 
My  object  in  these  portions  of  the  work  is  not  to  expound  homiletically  the  whole 
narrative  in  Which  a  miracle  is  recorded,  but  to  inquire  whether  the  event  recorded  be 
indeed  a  miracle. 

"  /i  mill  take  rdhh  Ai  onc6  (lUieng  th(  siandariiireatises  ttfion  Us  always  impor- 
tant and  engrossing  theine.  It  is  an  elaborate  sittdy — the  frtiit  of  wide-reaching  and 
profouyid  research  and  patient  reflection.  The  result  of  these  studies  is  that  the 
I'olutne  is  a  powerful  defense  of  the  tniracles  as  an  essential  feature  of  the  religion  of 
Christ.  It  is  a  cause  of  congratulation  to  the  whole  Christ iaji  public  that  so  valuable 
course  of  lectures  has  been  given  to  the  whole  world  in  so  available  shape" — Boston 

CONGREGATIONALIST. 

"  An  exhaustive  discussion  of  the  New  Testament  Miracles.  The  topics  are 
candidly,  lucidly,  and  very  ably  considered.  The  volume  is  a  rich  addition  to  our 
apologetic  literature,  which  every  Biblical  stude;.t  will  desire  to  add  to  his  library."-. 
Zion's  Herald. 


IC 

A  Systematic  and  Critical  Study  of  the  Parables  of  our  Lord.     By  Rev. 
Prof.  A.  B.  Bruce,  D.D.     i  vol.,  8vo,  cloth,  527  pp.  Price,  $2.50. 

"A  work  which  will  at  once  take  its  place  as  a  classic  on  the  Parables  of  our  Sa- 
viour.   No  minister  should  think  of  doing  without  it." — Ainerican  Presbyterian  Review. 

American  Literary  Churchman  says  :  "  We  recommend  this  book  with  the  most 
confident  earnestness.  It  is  a  book  to  be  bought  and  kept ;  it  has  both  depth  and 
breadth  and  minute  accuracy  ;  it  has  a  livuig  sympathy  with  the  teaching  of  the  Para- 
bles and  with  the  spirit  of  the  Master." 

ENGLISH  NOTICES. 

"  Prof.  Bruce  brings  to  his  task  the  learning  and  the  liberal  and  finely  sympathetic 
spirit  which  are  the  best  gifts  of  an  expositor  of  Scripture.  His  treatment  of  his  subject 
is  vigorous  and  original,  and  he  avoids  the  capital  mistake  of  overlaying  his  exegesis 
v/ith  a  mass  of  other  men's  views." — Spectator. 

"  The  studies  of  the  Parables  are  thorough,  scholarly,  suggestive  and  practical. 
Fullness  of  discussion,  reverence  of  treatment,  and  sobriety  of  judgment,  mainly  char- 
acterize this  work." — Christian  World. 

"Each  Parable  is  most  thoughtfully  worked  out,  and  much  new  light  is  thus  thrown 
on  the  difficulties  which  surround  many  of  these  beautiful  and  suggestive  examples  of 
Divine  teaching." — Clergymen's  Magazine. 

"This  volume  has  only  to  be  known  to  be  welcomed,  not  by  students  alone,  butby 
all  earnest  students  ot  Christ's  oracles.  On  no  subject  has  Dr.  Bruce  spoken  more 
wisely  than  on  the  question  why  Jesus  spoke  m  parables.  The  one  end  the  author  sets 
before  himself  is,  to  find  out  what  our  Lord  really  meant.  And  this  he  does  with  a 
clearness  and  fullness  worthy  of  all  praise.      Familiar  aS  We  are  with  SOme  of 

the  best  and  most  popular  works  on  the  Parables,  we  do  not  know  any  to 
which  we  could  look  for  so  much  aid  in  our  search  after  the  very  meaning 
which  Christ  would  nave  us  find  in  His  viQ'^^%.''''—Nonconfor7nisi. 


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dren in  the  sunshine.'  There  is  also  a  freshness,  not  to  say  an  originality,  about  the 
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lO 


STANDARD   RELIGIOUS   WORKS. 


New  and  Enlarged  [4"^h]  Edition,  in  Cheaper  Form, 

OF 

CHARLES  L.  BRACES  GE8TA  CHRISII. 

A  HISTORY  OF  HUMANE  PROGRESS   UNDER  CHRIS- 
TIANITY.    With  New  Preface  and  Supplemen- 
tary Chapter.      540  pp.,  cloth. 

Price  reduced  from   $2.^0  to  ^i.^o. 

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gles v/ith  honest,  thoughtful  infidelity." 

'■'  It  presejzis  a  storehouse  of  facts  bearing  on  the  influences  of  Christianity  upon 
such  important  topics  as  the  paternal  power,  the  position  of  woman  under  custom  and 
law,  personal  purity,  and  marriage,  slavery,  cruel  and  licentious  sports,  and  all  matters 
of  humanity  and  compassion,  etc.  The  thoughtful  reader  will  here  gather  in- 
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Rev.  Dr,  B.  S.  STORMS  says:  "IT  IS  A  BOOK  THAT 
DESERVES  THE  VERY  WIDEST  CIRCULATION  FOR  ITS  CAREFUL- 
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moral  forces,  and  for  the  fine  spirit  which  pervades  it." 

"  The  skill  and  industry  with  which  i\Ir.  Brace  has  gleaned  and  sorted  the  vast  ac- 
cumulation of  material  here  gathered  together,  the  better  to  show  forth  the  power  and 
influence,  direct  and  indirect,  of  Christ's  teachings,  is  not  only  praise-worthy,  but  even 
in  a  certain  sense  wonderful.  He  has  a  complete  mastery  of  his  subject,  and  many 
chapters  in  the  book  are  of  exceeding  value  and  interest." — London  Mornhig  Post. 

A  NEV/  and  REVISED  EDITION,  with  NEW  MAPS  and  ILLUSTRATIONS, 

ITAEEY'S  SINAf  Al  PALESTINE. 

In  Connection  with  their  History.     By  Dean  A,  P.  STANLEY. 

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rections, giving  the  work  the  final  impress  of  his  scholarship,  taste  and 
ability.  This  edition  has  been  carefully  conformed  to  the  last  English 
edition — including  the  new  maps  and  illustrations,  and  is  herewith  com- 
mended anew  AS  THE  MOST  READABLE  AS  WELL  AS  THE 
MOST  ACCURATE  WORK  ON  THE  SUBJECT  IN  THE  ENG- 
LISH LANGUAGE. 

Rev.  Dr.  H.  M.  Fietii,  Editor  of  " N.  V.  Evangelist,"  says  of  Stanley's  "Sinai 
and  Palestine"  :  "  We  had  occasion  for  its  constant  use  in  crossing  the  desert,  and  in 
journeying  through  the  Holy  Land,  and  can  bear  witness  at  once  to  its  accuracy  and  to 
the  charm  of  its  descriptions.  Of  all  the  helps  we  had  it  was  iy  far  the  jnost  cap- 
tivating.'''' 

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14 


CHOBCS    STANDARD    WORKS. 

A  NEW  AND  HANDS02EE  LIBRARY  EDITION 

OF 

MILMAN'S  COMPLETE  WORKS, 

Wii/i  Table  of  Contents  and  Full  Indexes, 
IN  8  VOLS.,  CROWN  8V0,   CLOTH. 

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Revised  and  Corrected,  Comprises 

The  History  of  the  Jews,  2  Vols. 

The  History  of  Christianity,  2  Vols. 

History  of  Latin  Christianity,  4  Vols. 

Dr.  Milman  has  won  lasting  popularity  as  a  historian  by  his  throe 
great  works,  History  of  the  Jews,  History  ob  Christianity,  and 
History  of  Latin  Christianity.  These  works  link  orv  to  each 
other,  and  bring  the  narrative  down  from  the  beginning  of  all  history  to 
the  middle  period  of  the  modern  era.  They  are  the  work  of  the  scholar, 
a  conscientious  student,  and  a  Christian  philosopher.  Dr.  Milman 
prepared  this  new  edition  so  as  to  give  it  the  benefit  of  the  results  of 
more  recent  research.  In  the  notes,  and  in  detached  appendices  to  the 
chapters,  a  variety  of  very  important  questions  are  critically  discussed. 

The  author  is  noted  for  his  calm  and  rigid  impartiality,  his  fearless 
exposure  of  the  bad  and  appreciation  of  the  good,  both  in  institutions 
and  men,  and  his  aim  throughout,  to  utter  the  truth  always  in  charity. 
The  best  authorities  on  all  events  narrated  have  been  studiously  sifted 
and  their  results  given  in  a  style  remarkable  for  its  clearness,  force  and 
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His  search  at  all  times  seems  to  have  been  for  truth,  and  that  v/hich 
he  finds  he  states  with  simple  clearness  and  v/ith  fearless  honesty. 
HIS  V;ORKS  ARE  IN  THEIR  DEPARTMENT  OF  HISTORY  AS 
VALUABLE  AS  THE  VOLUMES  OF  C  BBON  ARE  IN  SECULAR 
HISTORY.  THEY  DESERVE  A  PLACE  IN  EVERY  LIBRARY  IN 
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15 


IMPORTANT  RELIGIOUS   WORKS. 

®l)c  lUragoiuJmaigciBi  Demon; 

Or,  The  Three  Religions  of  China. 

CONFUCIANISIV:;  BUDDHISM,  and  TAOISM. 

Giving  an  account  of  the  Mythology,  Idolatry,  and  Demonolatry  of  the 
Chinese.  By  Rev.  Hampden  C.  Du  Bose,  14  years  a  Missionary 
in  China.  With  188  illustrations,  Engraved  in  Cliina.  Crown 
octavo.     Beautifully  bound.     Cloth,  full  gilt  side.     $2.00. 

"  The  tvriter  has  drawn  his  mater  from  native  wells,  ike  facts  being  inosily 
gat  tiered  from  Oiinese  sources.  Tlie  pen  is  not  hetd  by  one  seated  in  a  professor's 
study,  but  by  a  ptain  man,  lulio  daily  'luattis  to  and  fro  among  idolaters,  and  testifies 
of  wliat  lie  has  seen  and  heard,  written  in  a  plain  style,  so  that  the  young  as  welt  as 
the  old  may  understand  it." 

"  As  a  writer,  he  has  drawn  largely  on  native  sources.  There  is  much  here  that 
will  be  of  value,  even  to  those  familiar  with  the  literature  on  the  subject.  One  walks  as 
with  a  familiar  friend  with  every  thing  in  the  country,  who  simply  talks  to  him  about 
these  religions  as  known  by  the  literati  and  the  common  people.  The  style  is 
remarkably  lucid,  and  the  interest  is  sustained  from  the  first  to  the  last." — Northern 
Christian  Advocate. 

"  We  commend  it  as  a  clear  and  popular  presentation  of  the  subject  about  which 
such  vague  views  prevail." — Lutheran  Quarterly . 

"The  work  will  make  a  valuable  addition  to  our  young  people's  libraries, and  will 
afford  much  food  for  reflection." — Zion's  Herald. 

"  Here  is  a  vast  store  of  information  about  the  Chinese  manners  and  customs  in 
all  the  phases  of  life.  The  author  has  also  studied  the  writings  of  Edkins,  Eitet, 
Legge,  and  Beal,  and  the  various  Chinese  sages." — N.  V.  Commercial. 

London  Saturday  Review — "It  is  a  book  likely  to  be  widely  read.  Of  the 
author's  minute  description  of  popular  and  household  deities,  and  the  mass  of  legend 
connected  with  them,  the  book  and  its  curious  illustrations  can  alone  speak.  Mr.  Du 
Bose  has  much  to  say  that  is  fresh  and  suggestive,  and  he  says  it  with  force  and 
conviction," 

MOMENTS  ON  THE   MOUNT. 

A  Series  of  108  Devotional  Meditations. 

By  Rev.  Geo.   Matheson,  D.D.     (From  2d  English  edition.)     X2mo, 
cloth.     I1.25. 

"  /«  '  Moments  on  the  Mount '  tue  are  brought  into  contact  with  a  writer  whose 
•whole  soul  is  saturated  with  Divine  ideas,  and  to  7vhom  Scriptural  images  are  the 
exponents  and  symbols  of  spiritual  conceptions.  This  volume  is  not  one  to  be  read 
through  at  a  sitting  and  then  laid  aside  :  rather,  rack  meditation  is  to  be  pojider^  d 
over  and  enjoyed  singly  and  separately,  and  to  be  dwelt  upon  until  it  becomes  a  per- 
manent possession.' — The  Scotsman. 

Reii.  Dr.  John  Hall  says  each  section  is  self-contained,  practical,  starting  with  a 
Bible  word  and  bringing  out  in  a  meditative  form  its  meaning.  For  the  sick-room,  the 
aged,  or  for  the  closet-table  of  any  Christian,  it  is  a  thoroughly  fit  and  good  book. 


Copies  sent  hy  viail  on  receipt  of  price. 

A.  C.  ARMSTRONG  &  SON,  714  Broadway,  New  Yoric. 

6 


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The  ancient  world  and  Christianity 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary-Speer  Library 


1    1012  00162  3430 


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